


Her Eyes Turn Soft When They Look At Me

by away_from_the_stars



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:19:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/away_from_the_stars/pseuds/away_from_the_stars
Summary: Santana was just going about her life, writing songs, minding her own business, and trying to move on from her biggest mistake when a certain song catches her by surprise. Memories take her like a tsunami and she's forced to confront her repressed feelings. Does she even deserve a happy ending at this point? Does fate really mean anything and do soulmates actually exist? When she spots Brittany for the first time in 5 years, she's too afraid to ask.----Future Fic set after the proposal but before the wedding. Technically an AU because Brittany attends a school in LA. Angst mixed with fluff.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched Glee because it was on Netflix and I miss Santana and Brittany so much I had to write a fic about it. I don't even know if there's a fandom here anymore, or if anyone but me even reads fanfic about these two anymore... but here ya'll go just in case. 
> 
> Sorry it's starting out so angsty, I couldn't help it! It kind of flashes between past and present for the first few chapters, and mostly follows Santana's story-line so if it's talking a lot about Brittany, it's probably a flashback.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always greatly appreciated.

Santana was minding her own business.

She’d been minding her own business, listening to spotify, as she usually did on her commute home, when the song she’d been most avoiding the past 5 years surprised her. The piano notes tumbled through the airwaves and filled her headphones, forcing Santana into a nauseous mix of longing, sadness, and immediate panic.

_For you, there’ll be no more crying._

Santana’s hands shook as she rummaged through her purse looking for her damn phone.

___For you, the sun will be shining___

____And I feel that when I’m with you,_ _ _ _

_____it’s alright… I know it’s ri-_ _ _ _ _

She’d finally located her phone beneath her emergency blush and compact mirror and had managed to cut off Fleetwood Mac. She let out a sad sigh of irritation, because you can’t just hear the song you had used to confess your undeniable love for your soulmate and not reflect on your past.

Life had been okay the past five years, Santana was building her own empire in NYC, and she was actually pretty proud of the way it all worked out.

Who knew that the mess Rachel Berry had created by running off to LA to that TV show audition, consequently forcing Santana to star for one night in Funny Girl, would open so many doors for her. It just so happened that a big-shot producer had been in the crowd that night. He liked what he had heard and eventually reached out to Santana to offer her a record deal.

Long story short, Santana had basically been a one-hit wonder, which was totally okay with her, because in the process of writing the only song she would ever sing to make it in the Billboard Top 100, she discovered a passion for song-writing that far outweighed her love of performing… which had been shocking to her but apparently not to Brittany.

 _ _ _ _ _Ugh Brittany, _S______ antana thought to herself as she tugged her beats back over her ears and walked into the subway car. _How could I have been so stupid?_

She fidgeted with her jacket zipper as the subway doors closed. She was uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable, because she had worked so hard to stop thinking about Brittany every waking moment. She’d spent years trying to push the memory of Brittany’s ocean eyes brimming with tears, silently pleading with Santana to change her mind, from her memory. The sound of the front door clicking shut and Santana's choice to lock Brittany out still haunted her dreams… well… nightmares.

  
Santana had been minding her own damn business, and spotify had to just barge into her headphones and tear her down like that. _How fucking fragile am I? That a stupid song could crack me open like that again,_ Santana thought bitterly.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

  
“Britt! Hey Britt, you’ll never guess what happened today,” Santana burst through their shared apartment door, brimming with untethered joy. Her eyes immediately locked on Brittany’s and she was so absorbed in the familiar feeling of warmth spreading from her heart all the way to her fingertips, that she didn’t notice Brittany swiftly tuck something between the couch cushions.

“Hi baby,” Brittany smiled as she stood up and walked the six feet between the couch and the front door to envelope her girlfriend in her long arms. Santana’s excitement had her buzzing, but as she felt Brittany against her body, she immediately melted into the other girl's arms.

Santana smiled up at Brittany, in a blinding display of undepreciated vulnerability. Joy spilled into her eyes and she nuzzled at the blonde’s neck before looking back up at her, “Hey,” she sighed.

They stood like that in the entrance to their apartment for a few more minutes.

The apartment was small, the furniture was mismatched, and there were only a few dishes in the kitchen cabinets, but it was cozy. After all, what more could you expect from a couple of 20-year-olds, college drop-outs, that were just trying to make their own way in NYC? Santana was still working part-time as a waitress and Brittany had managed to get hired at a local dance studio.

It wasn’t much, but it was their place, and neither girl would have had it any other way. They didn’t need to pay too much for heat at night (at least not during the fall and early winter) because they had each other to keep warm. They didn’t need too many dishes because neither of them had ever really learned to cook. Who needs multiple couches when you spend the vast majority of your time near each other anyway? It was perfectly theirs.

Santana shifted in Brittany’s arms and cleared her throat, “so guess what happened today?”

“Did Lord Tubbington send a hitman after you? I have been worried he might after the last time he caught us having sex on the couch. He’s not good at sharing attention…” Brittany frowned thoughtfully.

“No Britt, Tubs and I have an understanding,” Santana shook her head and smiled softly at her girlfriend before her expression changed to one of concern and she whipped her head around looking for the cat in question. “No, it’s just… you know that song I was working on writing? The one you keep making me play for you on my guitar?”

Brittany nodded her understanding and waited for Santana to continue, “Well, I showed it to my boss, who showed it to Ellie Goulding, who liked it!!! She wants to use it for her next album! Anyway… you know how Mercedes signed with the company the same time I did? Well, my boss thinks that she and I could collab on the record she’s making! I’m gonna get to write some of the songs! ”

Brittany beamed down at her girlfriend, pride swelling in her chest, “San! That’s completely amazing!! You’re completely amazing!!” She wrapped Santana in her arms, throwing her into a dip and kissed her. Both of them smiled into the kiss.

This was the start. The beginning of Santana’s dream. The thing she’d been looking for since coming to New York. She finally knew what kind of star she wanted to be, knew that it did actually matter where in the sky she shined.

 _Santana had thought that she wanted to be the biggest and brightest star. Other people had always considered her to be such a diva, and sure maybe she was one, but she was so much more than the rest of the world gave her credit for. Hell, she was so much more than she gave herself credit for._ Brittany mused, as she watched Santana immediately pull out her guitar and start strumming experimentally. She would sit like that for the next two hours, Brittany knew. _Santana had been like this in high school, all attitude and confidence but she’d never been the ringleader. She left that to Quinn, pulling strings from the background. In Glee, it had taken her a full year before she finally started demanding the solos she deserved. Santana was a lot of bark… and a lot of bite, but she was also quiet. There was a quiet peace about her that she only occasionally let shine through. It only made sense to Brittany that Santana would take to song writing, where she could share vulnerable parts of herself with the world without actually letting anyone know._

Brittany watched for a few minutes as Santana furrowed her brow and jotted a few words down in her notebook before turning back to her guitar. Brittany leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of the brunette’s head, while subtly reaching down between the couch cushions to retrieve the letter she had hastily shoved there when Santana had come home. She turned her back and headed toward their bedroom, all the while worrying the paper between her fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

The subway car rattled to a stop, snapping Santana out of the memory. Someone, no doubt in a hurry, smashed into her shoulder as they exited the car and Santana didn’t even have the energy to hurl her usual, “Watch it, JACKASS” response at his back as he hurried away.

She began her walk back to her the apartment studio she had bought 3 years back, after she’d started to really make money from the songs she had written. The studio was everything she had ever dreamed of, high enough up that she had a fantastic view of the city, but low enough that she didn’t have to sell her future first-born to the devil to afford it.

The kitchen was immaculate, all stainless steal and granite. It remained perfect because Santana had yet to learn to cook. The bedroom was lofted, with ceiling to floor windows that gave the best view from the apartment. The view was clear from the inside, but the outside was tinted just enough that no passerby on the street could see inside. There was a room dedicated entirely to her song writing, and it housed the 3 different guitars and the piano she had accumulated over the past few years.

But where the living-room should be, there almost nothing at all. Just hardwood floors and giant windows that let light stream inside. There was no need for a TV, Santana had reasoned, because she had one on the wall in her bedroom. She rarely had other people over, other than Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, and Kurt, and they were never all here together- so she didn’t need some massive couch. She took her coffee at the kitchen counter and spent most of her time in her songwriting room. The only thing that graced the living room was a single large and comfy chair tucked in the corner. Santana had always appreciated the simplicity of minimalism.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Santana asked the second Brittany collapsed on their bed after a long day of work.

She was sitting with her back to the headboard, a letter clasped in her left hand.

“Hi baby,” Brittany smiled up at her girlfriend and reached her thumb out to swipe at the crease between Santana’s furrowed brows. She shifted her hand to cup Santana’s cheek and felt Santana lean into her palm before she turned her head to place a kiss there.

Santana took in a long breath, as if to settle herself before responding softly, “Hey.” Despite her gentle greeting, Santana’s anxiety was still palpable, and this was not lost on Brittany. Santana shifted her eyes away from Brittany’s and back down to the letter in her hand. She held it up weakly and repeated her question, “What is this?”

Brittany flipped over on her stomach and shimmied closer to Santana to get a better look at the paper in her hand. She smiled at herself as her eyes caught the twinkle of the engagement ring on Santana’s hand. Her smile dropped almost immediately after, though, because she realized what Santana was holding.

Santana watched as realization dawned on Brittany’s face and her stomach dropped in time with Brittany’s smile. Blue eyes sought out brown and a rare frown bit at Brittany’s lips, “That’s something that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Britt, how can you say that? You and I both know that this matters,” Santana was confused and she was hurt, but more than anything else, she was scared.

Brittany sat up on her knees and shrugged, “I didn’t think I would get accepted, so I didn’t want to say anything until I heard back. I never in a thousand years thought that an Art Institute would be interested in me, San.”

Santana was shaking her head before Brittany had even finished her sentence. _How could the dancer be so oblivious? Of course California Institute of the Arts would want her, Brittany danced the way rain falls, how waves crash, and like a breeze on a warm summer night, _“Britt, I… this… this is amazing. Not only did they accept you… they offered you a full ride.”__

__Brittany nodded sadly, “If you’d have told me someone would be willing to pay for me to go to college just for dancing when I was in high school, I’d have told you that Unicorns can fly.”_ _

__Santana was momentarily pulled from her current worry as her mind backflipped through that statement, “But… wait… can’t unicorns fly? I thought that’s what makes them unicorns? Don’t, like, rainbows follow them like that line of cloud follows planes?”_ _

__Brittany giggled and rolled her eyes, punching Santana’s shoulder playfully, “No you goofball, they can’t fly! They have a horn on their head and they live on rainbows. You’re mixing them up with a Pegasus…that’s the one that can fly.”_ _

__Santana nods, perfect understanding._ _

__“I uhm…well I applied to Juliard also, and got on the waiting list, but I must not have made the cut because I never heard back and it’s past the cut-off date.”_ _

__Neither of them looked at the other as the weight of Brittany’s words settled on them the way water pressed down on you when you’re lying at the bottom of a pool. Which is sort of how Santana felt- like she was drowning at the bottom of a pool, because she knew that soon, there would be no oxygen left in her lungs. Brittany was the breath that kept her alive, the fresh air that soothed her soul._ _

__There was no way Santana was willing to keep Brittany from her dream. No way she would allow Brittany to turn down this offer. She knew it the second she had read the letter, knew it now as she watched her girlfriend shrug, and knew it before Brittany opened her mouth to say, “San, I’m not going.”_ _

__Brittany reached out and took the letter from Santana’s hand, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan. Then, she reached out both hands to take Santana’s and took in a deep breath, “Santana, our life is here. You and Mercedes are already halfway done with the record, and the single you guys released is in the top 10! You can’t leave now, and I can’t ask you to. Something else will come around for me, but right now I can keep dancing and teaching at the studio. I submitted my application before you showed your boss that first song you wrote, before we knew that you were going to be permanently in New York for the foreseeable future. It’s okay,” she kissed Santana’s hands and looked up at her fiancés face._ _

__“It’s okay,” she whispered again and placed kisses on Santana’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that stained them with her lips, “we’re staying in New York.”_ _

__Brittany pulled Santana into her arms and held her close, cooing affirmations and assurances against the skin on her neck until exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep._ _

__But the tears still gathered in Santana’s eyes against her will. Brittany was right, Santana couldn’t leave New York, but she was also wrong because Brittany couldn’t stay there either._ _


	3. Chapter 3

Santana absentmindedly walked between the streets in New York, music still blaring in her headphones, but not really entering her consciousness. Her mind jumping around from memory to memory, while she trusted her body to bring her home.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The arguing had increased as the acceptance deadline approached. It was foreign territory to the couple, because they generally saw eye-to-eye on most things. Santana had tried everything she could think of to get Brittany see reason, but Brittany wasn’t willing to budge. 

“Brittany, please!” Santana practically sobbed, angry tears betraying her. She didn’t know how to handle this. She was angry. Angry with Brittany for applying to the Art Institute without telling her…because maybe if she had told her, Santana would have never showed her boss that song, she never would have agreed to the stupid album, she could just move with Brittany. Angry with herself because she knew she would resent Brittany someday if she chose to follow the impulse beating in her chest that told her to screw the album and just follow Brittany here and now out to LA. But more than anything else she was angry at Brittany for being so Brittany…and it was so confusing for her because how could she be so angry at the very thing that made her love this other girl with every atom in her body. 

Brittany was sure, so sure, that New York was where she belonged. She was so loving, and supportive, and caring, and so Brittany that she was certain that she could give up on her dream of becoming a professional dancer. Adamant that she could stay in New York without ever resenting Santana for being the reason she missed out on her dream. Santana knew Brittany, knew she was right. Believed without a shadow of a doubt that her Lady Knight in Shining Armor meant what she promised, and furthermore that it was true. 

Santana just couldn’t shake this image in her head, though, of them in thirty years. Brittany still teaching at the dance studio, and Santana living her dream. She would come home from a concert, a tour, or a producer meeting to Brittany, who would greet her at the door with a smile and a hug and a, “Hey baby.” Brittany would be content, but Santana wanted so much more for her than simple contentment. She wanted blazing, brilliant, bold happiness for her. She wanted Brittany to pursue her dream, because she was selfish. 

Santana mentally cursed her weakest attribute. Her selfishness would always be the bane of her existence. She knew that if Brittany stayed for her, Santana would grow to resent herself. No matter how often Brittany would reassure her, a part of Santana’s insecure conscious would nag at her that Brittany could have been happier. It would tear them apart, and it would only be Santana’s fault. 

“Santana we have been over this!” Brittany spun around and slammed her hands on her hips. She shook her head in disbelief and frustration that they were repeating the same argument again and again. “I don’t know what else you want from me. I don’t WANT to leave you. I don’t CARE about the acceptance letter. Just let it go.”

Realization dawned on Santana in that moment. She knew what she would have to do and the anger that flared up in her at the thought of it propelled her across the room. 

A startled look flashed across Brittany’s face at the sudden turn of events as Santana’s body slammed into hers while Santana’s hand tangled itself in her hair. Santana pushed Brittany up against the wall of their bedroom as she kissed her with a hunger that Brittany couldn’t quite place.

Brittany’s hands fumbled with the hem of Santana’s shirt until the other girl disentangled her hands from blonde hair to raise her arms to help Brittany remove her shirt, only parting from her lips for the nanosecond it took to pull she shirt over her head. 

Santana slid a leg between Brittany’s thighs and ground into her until Brittany let out a moan, which only fueled Santana’s actions more…

__________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Santana shook her head to get the memory of her last night with Brittany out of her brain. There was nothing but pain there, and it would not do well for her to linger on mistakes made. 

The next day, she’d broken up with Brittany. Told her she couldn’t love someone who wasn’t brave enough to follow their own dreams. She’d packed up Brittany’s things and put them outside the door, all the while the blonde cried and pleaded. She’d called Santana a liar, begged her to admit that she was just trying to push her away. 

Brittany had taken Santana’s face into her hands and forced her to look into her eyes and said, “What about what you said back in Lima? That we’re a big deal? That you don’t want to live without your one true love?” 

And Santana had done the one thing she knew would push Brittany away. The one thing she knew would break the girl enough to force her to believe that Santana was pushing her away because she didn’t love her anymore. She pictured Brittany meeting someone else in California so that the anger in her eyes would be real, and she snarled at this girl that she had only ever treated with tenderness, reverence, and love, “You really are an idiot, Brittany Pierce. To think that I could ever stay in love someone as stupid as you.”

“You don’t mean that, San,” Brittany whispered as tears she no longer tried to hold back tumbled down her cheeks, “don’t do this to us.”

“There is no us anymore,” Santana spat, bile churning in her stomach at the lie as she shut the door of their perfect, tiny, shabby, little apartment, locking Brittany out of their home. Pushing Brittany out of her life and hating herself more than she had ever hated anyone in the world. More than she had hated Sue Sylvester for constantly calling her Sandbags, more than she hated Shuester for giving every solo to Berry. Loathing herself more than she had loathed Kurt when he’d ruined her proposal to Brittany. Even more than she had detested Finn when he had outed her to the entire fucking state. 

She cried herself to sleep that night, and the next, and every night after for the next year, never once sleeping on Brittany’s half of the bed.

She moved out of that apartment as soon as she could; there were too many ghosts there to haunt her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in Flashback mode in this one

She had followed Brittany to LA.

It took her a full year, argument after argument with Quinn, and a night full of whiskey and regret to purchase the plane ticket, but she had followed Brittany out to LA. 

She had wandered around the Cal Art campus pretty aimlessly for most of the day. She knew where Brittany lived because she and Quinn had been exchanging letters, but she needed the day to work up her courage. At least, that’s what she told herself, but some small part of her knew that she was just trying to make herself feel better for forcing Brittany out to this place. 

She imagined Brittany laughing in the dining hall, books clutched to her chest and ponytail swinging as she threw her head back. Imagined her pirouetting and pop-locking in the dance studios. When a tall blonde girl biked past her, she nearly stopped breathing until she realized that it was not, in fact, Brittany- who only rode a tricycle because she didn’t want the other two wheels to feel lonely. 

When she had finally worked up the courage to go to the apartment, she stood outside for a solid 20 minutes. What if Brittany hated her? What if she refused to talk to her? What if she opened the door and immediately shut it in Santana’s face, the way Santana had done to her a year ago? She wouldn’t blame her, but her very fragile heart probably couldn’t take any of those scenarios.

What was she expecting to have happen?! “Hey Brittany, I know I was a complete and total bitch to you and said some very unforgivable things and forced you to leave me even though that’s not what you wanted and even though it was for selfish reasons. And I know I said I didn’t love you but that was the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told. I know I have no right to ask you to take me back but I really don’t know how to live my life without you in it.” And then what? Brittany would just forgive her?

Santana shook her head, knowing she didn’t deserve to be forgiven...and for the first time in a long time, she was actually a tiny bit grateful for her selfishness…because that’s what drove her to knock on the front door.

“Just a minute, I’ll be right there!!”

Santana frowned. She knew that voice, but it wasn’t the one she had expected. She darted around the corner of the hallway and waited, with a sinking stomach, for the door to open.

She watched as it swung open and shaggy, blonde hair appeared. A giant mouth twisted into a frown as Sam looked from side to side in confusion and ran a hand through his Bieber haircut, “Huh.”

“Sam? Who is it?” Santana felt her heart jump out of her chest at the sound of Brittany’s voice from inside the apartment.

Sam didn’t answer and after a few seconds Brittany spoke again, “Babe, if you don’t come back in, I’m gonna watch the movie without you.”

Sam chuckled, took one last look down the hall, muttered, “must be those neighbor kids again” before replying to Brittany in a louder voice, “coming Britt-Britt!” and shutting the door.

Santana was going to be sick. Violently sick. Or she was going to break something. Maybe both. No, she was just going to break something, and that something was Sam Evans face.

She stormed back up to the door, fully intending on pounding on the door until Trouty Mouth opened it, and then she was going to shove her fist straight into his nose. She was mentally preparing the verbal slaying she was about to perform when she heard laughter sneak out from beneath the apartment door. Brittany’s laughter, and it sounded so happy. 

There was nothing left of Santana’s heart to shatter, that had happened the day she pushed Brittany away. All that had been left were tiny pieces of glass that sliced at her ribs and jutted into her spine. Knowing that Brittany had replaced her, though, took the pain away. More than that, it seeped any ounce of hope, joy, or warmth left over in Santana straight out of her. It took away the pain, but it also took away every other emotion. Santana was numb. She went straight back to the airport, boarded the next flight to New York, and couldn’t even find it in herself to hate herself anymore. There was nothing at all. 

When she got back to New York, she shut herself in her shitty apartment. She had moved out of the one she shared with Brittany the day after Brittany left. The only apartment she could afford on her own was in the Bronx, had 6 deadbolts on the back of the door, stains all over the walls, and all she had in it was a mattress. She didn’t leave that mattress except to go to the bathroom for 2 weeks.

She was scrolling through Brittany’s Instagram, cursing over the fact that the dancer never updated the damn thing. Maybe if she had, Santana would have seen some sign in the photos that Brittany was replacing her, and maybe she’d have acted faster. She was lost in this thought when there was a banging on the door, which Santana ignored.

But the banging didn’t stop, it went on for ten minutes and then stopped abruptly. 

“Santana, you dumb bitch, open this door. I know you’re in here,” Quinn yelled through the wood. Santana just rolled over, turning her back to the door and closed her eyes.

“Maybe we should just come back another time?” That was Rachel’s voice. Santana rolled her eyes.

“Oh HELL to the NO.” Annnnnd that would be Mercedes, Santana thought.

Suddenly there was a smash and then the sound of a splintering door frame. Santana flipped over to face the door, shocked and startled. She stared in disbelief as Mercedes outstretched leg and foot made contact with her kitchen floor. Quinn and Rachel followed Mercedes into the apartment, fear in Rachel’s eyes and a mildly impressed expression ghosting across Quinn’s face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst... will it ever end? When do we get to the present!
> 
> All things I'm annoying myself with!

“WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? YOUR FUCKING NAME IS MERCEDES, NOT TONKA TRUCK 5000… WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE BULLDOZING MY DOOR DOWN LIKE SOME FUCKING LUNATIC?”

Mercedes ignored Santana’s slew of frankly sub-par insults and dusted her hands off. She arched an eyebrow at the 6 deadbolts on the door… none of which had been locked. Clearly Santana hadn’t bothered and had simply locked the door via the doorknob. 

“You know, Lopez… you live in a bad neighborhood…there’s a reason there are more deadbolts on this door than Sugar has pairs of lepord print boots. Probably should use them, miss thang.”

Santana just rolled her eyes, chucked a pillow in Mercedes general direction, and rolled back over so that she didn’t have to look at her stupid friends.

Quinn let out a low whistle as she sized up the apartment, “No wonder you never let me come over here, this place is a dump.”

“Oh my god, is that a rat?” Rachel’s annoying, quivering voice whimpered from the doorway.

“Rachel don’t be dramatic,” Mercedes sighed.

Rachel nodded and then moved toward Santana, gently reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, “Santana?”

Santana jerked her shoulder to rid it of Rachel’s hand. That girl could be so annoyingly compassionate and Santana wanted to punch her in the face. 

Mercedes tried the tough love approach instead, “Santana, you’re clearly going through… something here, but you’ve been ghosting work for the past 2 weeks and I can’t cover for you anymore. So you need to get your sorry ass up out of bed and move it on back to work because I can’t make this album without you.”

No response. Not even so much as movement from Santana.

Mercedes and Rachel exchanged looks and then turned to Quinn who shrugged. 

“Why don’t you two go find something edible and bring it back here, there’s nothing but moldy Chinese in this fridge,” Quinn suggested. The other two nodded, relieved to have something to do, and left the apartment.

Santana waited for Quinn to say something, but she didn’t. She waited for Quinn to huff and tell her that she was being an idiot, but no huff came. A few minutes passed and Santana began to think that maybe Quinn had gone with the other two.

“San…” Santana flinched at the nickname that reminded her so much of what she had lost.

“…tana. Santana,” Quinn seemed to have noticed Santana’s visceral response and quickly corrected, understanding without needing the brunette to explain.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “I didn’t know she was with him. I probably would have still told you that you were being an idiot, and I probably would have still tried to get you to go to LA, but…at least I could have prepared you if I had known.”

Quinn’s voice was close but quiet. Santana felt the mattress indent as her friend’s weight shifted onto it. This was so unlike Quinn, whose hazel eyes usually hardened at any sign of weakness. Quinn, whose slap could snap the braindead out of a coma. Quinn, whose words arguably cut much deeper than Santana’s usually did.

This was a side of Quinn Santana had only ever seen used toward people who were at their absolute rock bottom. Rachel when she was debating whether to do the nude scene in college, when she decided to give Rachel prom queen, well wait a minute…basically Quinn has only ever shown this side of herself toward Rachel…Santana made a mental note to unpack that later.

For now, though, Quin was stroking Santana’s hair softly and saying, “I’m here for you, Santana”.

And with that simple show of support and friendship, Santana cracked all the way open and cried until she fell asleep. Quinn didn’t say another word, but she didn’t stop stroking Santana’s hair affectionately until long after Rachel and Mercedes returned with food.

Santana woke several hours later and shifted in her bed only to be met with the unexpected warmth of another body. She rolled over and caught a mouth full of blonde hair that confused her, because her first thought was of Brittany, but the girl beside her smelled of Lavender and Apple instead of Peach and Coconut. Santana frowned but watched the steady rise and fall of these ribs that did not build her home.

She should have known right away that it was Quinn, it wasn’t the first time Quinn had ever been in her bed, but she had been dreaming of Brittany and her mind was still muddled by sleepiness. 

Quinn had always been a light sleeper, and this time was no exception. She didn’t open her eyes, but when she spoke, her usually raspy voice was just a touch more gravelly when she said, “Take a picture, Santana, it’ll last longer.”

Santana actually chuckled. 

Quinn incredulously opened one eye and glared at her friend, annoyed that she chose this moment… she glanced at the clock blinking across the room… 2am…to become a real human again. 

This only made Santana’s chuckle turn into an actual laugh as she reached out and shoved Quinn’s shoulder.

A grumpy Quinn Fabray sat up in the bed and grumbled, “Okay, weird time to stop being a sad zombie but I guess I’m awake now.”

This only made Santana burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of her cranky, bed-head friend next to her. Quinn understood, though. Santana’s emotions were all over the map, and this insane behavior was only a result.  
Quinn just waited, and eventually the laughter quieted to a giggle, which turned into quiet tears.

“Why do you think I sabotage my own life, Quinn?” Santana murmured so softly, Quinn almost didn’t hear her. This was a very unusual show of vulnerability from her friend, one Quinn has rarely seen. 

“Santana, you’ve only ever sabotaged your own life when it comes to Brittany. You are your very best version of yourself around her. The way you look at her, it’s obvious that you think she shines brighter than the sun. I think…” Quinn pauses and studies Santana’s face thoughtfully, “I think that you sometimes worry that she’s so bright and warm that you’ll get burned if you stand too close to her, but what you don’t see is the way she looks at you when you aren’t looking at her.”

Santana stops playing with her nails and looks up at Quinn, clearly confused.

Quinn continues, “Brittany looks at you like you know all of the stars secrets. If Brittany is the sun, you’re the moon Santana. You’re not gonna burn up next to her, because you absorb the light she emanates. Even without her, you’re a force so powerful you pull tides… but with her, you shine brighter than any star in the sky… do you understand what I’m saying?”

Santana nods and wonders how many astrology books Rachel has Quinn reading these days.

“Looked,” Santana corrects.

When Quinn furrows her brow in confusion, Santana continues, “you said she looks at me like I know all the stars secrets. But she doesn’t look at me at all anymore, does she?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay so I imagine the song to be played to the tune of Bartering by The Ballroom Thieves.  
> It very loosely flows with the first and third verses. (I'm no song writer so don't judge too harshly haha)
> 
> This is a shorter chapter because I'm so sleepy :)

Santana nearly runs into some random guy coming out of the apartment complex because she’s so lost in her own head. Memory after memory keep flooding back to her and it’s making her feel sick.

She climbs the stairs without bothering to look up until she hears someone else’s music playing over her own. She reaches up and tugs one side of her beats off her ear and recognizes her own song. It was one of the songs she wrote during the year after she’d tried to follow Brittany to LA. 

_Running from love, I never learned right from wrong  
Afraid to stand too close to the setting sun.  
The sky, like a fire lit in the dead of night,  
your memory like a flame I just can’t outrun. ___

__Santana followed the slow music toward an apartment door that was not hers. That did not even look like hers. She finally studied her surroundings and realized that she was not in her current apartment building. Her feet had carried her straight past her loft and back to the apartment she had lived in five years ago. The one she had shared with Brittany._ _

_Now that I’ve lost the one thing I need to survive,  
I’m not really sure I have what I need to live life.  
If I could turn back time to right my wrongs,  
I’d hold you close, I’d burn up with the sun. ___

__

__

____The door to their old apartment was slightly ajar, allowing the song to flow into the hallway. Santana peaked through the opening and her mouth dropped at the familiar sight. The furniture was different. The walls were a different color, but the blonde dancing around near the window was as familiar to Santana as her own reflection._ _ _ _

____Santana blinked. She had to be dreaming, there was no way this was real. There was no way that Brittany S. Pierce was dancing in their old apartment, to a song that Santana had written about her. This is impossible._ _ _ _

____If she was asleep, Santana decided then, as she watched Brittany move peacefully with the music, that she never wanted to wake up. She would live in this dreamland forever, content to watch Brittany even if Brittany had no idea that Santana existed in this realm._ _ _ _

____The song played all the way through, and Santana noticed somewhere near the middle that the blonde had kept her eyes shut the entire dance. The last note lingered in the air and Brittany released a sad sigh as she turned around._ _ _ _

____Santana had unconsciously opened the door wider in an effort to watch Brittany as she had danced across the apartment. When stormy blue eyes met her startled, longing brown eyes, Santana froze._ _ _ _

____This wasn’t a dream. This was real, Brittany was really there. Santana had really unwittingly walked the 4.5 miles from her work to this apartment, watched Brittany dance again for the first time in 5 years, and had been caught in the act._ _ _ _

____All she could do was stare._ _ _ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know if anyone is reading this, and I also haven't written anything in years so I'm pretty out of practice. Apologies for any grammatical, spelling, or format errors.
> 
> IF anyone is actually reading this, are you enjoying it/should I continue or just drop it? Thanks for any input!

It’s impossible to know how long they stood there staring, Brittany in the middle of the apartment and Santana framed in the doorway.

How long had Santana been watching Brittany dance?

How long had Brittany been living in New York? In _this _apartment?__

__Where was Sam?_ _

__Thousands of questions ran through both of their brains, though neither of the women voiced them._ _

__It was Brittany who finally worked up the courage to break the silence, “San?”_ _

__Santana stuttered, wrapped her arms around her body as if to protect the space where her heart once sat._ _

__“Santana?” Brittany took a tentative step toward the other woman, unsure whether she wanted to pull her into her arms or push her back out the door._ _

__She didn’t have to choose, though, because the second she stepped toward her, Santana seemed to become unfrozen. Her doe eyes looked like she’d been caught in the headlights and then she bolted._ _

__Santana turned on her heel and sprinted straight down the hallway, down the stairs taking them 2 at a time. She didn’t stop until she was well out of the apartment complex and down a block._ _

__She bent down and put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, and settle the nausea she felt in her stomach. _Wait, not nausea…butterflies. _____

__________________________________________  
Back in the apartment, Brittany leaned against the still open front door and stared down the hallway where she’d caught a final glimpse of her ex-girlfriend fleeing. Confusion etched across her face._ _ _ _

____What had just happened? Why had Santana been here in the first place?_ _ _ _

____Brittany frowned. Wasn’t this exactly what some part of her had hoped would happen when she had moved back to this apartment? Sure, when she first moved in, she told herself it was because the rent was affordable, the location was decent, and she already knew all her things would fit perfectly in the apartment- but a small part of her had always hoped that somehow Santana would be drawn back to this place._ _ _ _

____Except, in that fantasy, Santana would appear at the door and Brittany would pull her into the apartment immediately. They would pick up where they left off, before Santana forced her out of her life. Brittany would forget all the pain and heartache and Santana would realize how stupid she had been. They’d smile at each other and everything would be right in the world again… but that’s not what had happened._ _ _ _

____Brittany had been startled to see Santana standing at the door when she’d finished dancing. The sight of Santana watching her with softness in her eyes had stirred up so many memories. Countless moments just like that one, where Santana watched Brittany move to music and looked at her like maybe she was made of glass- delicate and strong at the same time. But then the sight of her in the doorway also reminded Brittany of the last time she had seen Santana in that same doorway, the anger in her eyes and venom in her voice- something Santana had never turned toward Brittany before._ _ _ _

____She had been so conflicted, which version of Santana was standing before her today? Brittany had thought that she could push all the pain and confusion of the past five years away and start fresh if she just got the chance, but something kept her from reaching out to Santana._ _ _ _

____When the pull toward the brunette finally grew too strong, Brittany stepped automatically toward her- needing to connect with her in some way- either out of desperation or anger, she wasn’t sure._ _ _ _

____She should have known Santana would panic._ _ _ _

____Retrospectively, it was the most obvious reaction in the world from the other girl. She may be five years older, she may have made memories Brittany wasn’t present for, but she was still Santana. Brittany should have known that the sheer amount of emotion and anxiety associated with seeing each other again would be too much for Santana to handle. She had predictably done what Santana does best, which was to run and hide when pain was present._ _ _ _

______________________________________________________ _ _ _

____After Santana caught her breath, she immediately started running again. She found her way to yet another apartment door that did not belong to her studio, although this time it was intentional._ _ _ _

____She didn’t even bother knocking, just tried the doorknob and cursed when she found it was locked. She made a fist and started banging on the door until a very started Rachel Berry opened it._ _ _ _

____“What has gotten into you Santana-“ Santana brushed past Rachel, who gasped and brought a hand up to her chest. She stormed through the apartment, ignoring Rachels protests behind her._ _ _ _

____She walked into the kitchen and let out an irritated sigh when no one was inside, turning on her heel she was once again stopped by Rachel in her path._ _ _ _

____“Santana, please, what are you looking for?”_ _ _ _

____“Where’s Q?”_ _ _ _

____“Quinn? Why would Quinn be here? Shouldn’t you check for her in her own apartment, the apartment that she lives in, where she would obviously be spending her afternoon after work because that’s where she goes when she’s out of wor-“_ _ _ _

____“Can it Berry,” Santana interrupted Rachel's panicked babbling, “I know you two have been bumping uglies in here, you may as well just come right out and admit that you’re seeing each other, it’s been obvious for month.”_ _ _ _

____Rachel looked dumbfounded and began to protest, “What? No, that’s… that’s crazy…”_ _ _ _

____Santana rolled her eyes at the short woman in front of her and brushed past her again, stomping toward the bedroom and kicking the door open._ _ _ _

____Inside, was a bed-headed, sleepy Quinn Fabray tangled up in gold sheets, bare shoulders peaking out from beneath them. Santana turned to face Rachel and arched an eyebrow at her, “You were saying, hobbit?”_ _ _ _

____Rachel sighed and crossed her arms but did not reply._ _ _ _

____Santana marched into the bedroom, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at Quinn’s sleeping face, “UP, FABRAY!”_ _ _ _

____In the process of pushing the pillow off her head, the sheet slipped off Quinn’s shoulders, revealing more of her naked body, spurring Rachel to storm into the room and try to push Santana out._ _ _ _

____“Really Santana, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but Quinn is clearly _indecent _and the least you can do is give her a few minutes to put some clothing on before you start…wait what do you need her for?”___ _ _ _

______Quinn was awake now and although she was pissed at being so abruptly awoken, an amused smirk crossed her face. It was pretty funny to watch Rachel try to defend her honor, let alone attempt to force the much stronger girl out of the bedroom._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh shut UP you tiny troll, puhlease, like there’s anything under those sheets I haven’t seen before.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That stopped Rachel's efforts as her eyebrows knit together and she looked from Quinn to Santana and back again, “Wait… you two… you.. wait what? When?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Quinn glared at her friend and sighed, “Santana what are you doing here?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Santana put her hands on her hips and gave Quinn her most intimidating stare, “Did you know?”_ _ _ _ _ _


	8. Chapter 8

Quinn stood up from the bed and went to pull a shirt on.

Rachel squeaked and tried to cover Santana’s eyes, standing on her tip-toes to reach. Santana batted her hand away from her face and fixed a death glare at Rachel, daring her to try to touch her again. Quinn chucked at Rachel’s protectiveness. 

“Did I know what?” Quinn asks as she ties her sweatpants and looks up at Santana with a blank expression.

“Did you know that Britt is back in town?”

Shock swept over Quinn’s face and she sat back down on the bed, “Britt is back in town? Since when?”

Santana let out the breath she’d been holding, released the anger she had expected to feel toward Quinn, certain that her friend had been hiding this information from her. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to Quinn, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You didn’t know,” she sighed.

“No, I didn’t know,” Quinn reached out to touch Santana’s shoulder, encouraging Santana to look up at her, “you saw her?”

Rachel shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, but neither of the ex-cheerleaders noticed. She fidgeted with her hands as her palms became sweaty, wondering if she should speak now or wait until after Santana left. She decided to let Quinn handle the situation, left them to the bedroom quietly. 

“Yeah, she was dancing in our old apartment.”

“Wait, you went to your old apartment? Why would you do that? What was Brittany doing there?” Quinn’s forehead wrinkled in confusion as she shook her head, trying to fill in the missing information for herself.

“I don’t know why I went to the apartment. I wasn’t paying attention and my feet just like carried me there on their own. But when I got there, the door was open and there was Brittany dancing and I couldn’t stop watching her.”

Santana’s eyes were glistening with tears and her eyes were filled with confusion, “Q, she was dancing to Midnight Regrets.”

Quinn’s head snapped up and she peered curiously at Santana, there was a long pause before she spoke, “…do you think she knows?” 

The question hung between them but Santana didn’t have an answer. Did Brittany know that she had written that song specifically about how much she regretted pushing Brittany to move out to LA alone? How, if she could do it all again, she’d have packed up and followed her? Did Brittany even know she had written the song?

“I don’t think so, I mean how could she?” Santana’s eyebrows knit and unknit in deep thought, “It’s not like I sang the song, and it’s credited to the alias I use to write songs, which I didn’t create until after Brittany left.”

Quinn nodded, “Did you talk to her?”

“No, I freaked out when she caught me watching her and ran away.”

Quinn let out the most exasperated sigh she had ever experienced in her entire life, “what do you mean you _ran _away, Santana Lopez?”__

__Santana glared back at Quinn’s accusatory hazel eyes, “Well what would you have done?!”_ _

__“I don’t know Santana, I’d probably have cried,” Quinn raised an eyebrow at Santana until the other girl cracked a smile, knowing full well that Quinn could cry at the drop of a hat. She chuckled at the blatant honesty of her friend’s response._ _

__“Are you going to go back and talk to her?” Quinn asked softly but in a firm voice. Santana was shaking her head before the words were fully out of Quinn’s mouth._ _

__“How can I go back and talk to her after all I put her through? After she replaced me so quickly with Sam? I know that’s what I deserved, but I thought,” Santana’s voice cracked, “I thought I meant more to her than that. I didn’t think she’d replace me so quickly, and I definitely didn’t think she’d replace me with him _again. _”___ _

____The pain that spread across Santana’s face was so real that Quinn’s heart ached for her. She thought there was definitely more to the story than what either of them knew because she couldn’t imagine a world in which Brittany could ever replace Santana, but she didn’t say so._ _ _ _

____Santana stood abruptly and wiped her eyes, “I have to go. I have to, like, go figure some stuff out or something. Sorry for freaking your toy poodle out by busting in here.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t call her that, Santana,” Quinn said sternly, but the flicker of amusement in her eyes wasn’t missed by Santana, who rolled her eyes back in response._ _ _ _

____“You could have told me, you know, about you and Berry. I’d only have judged you a little- and if you’d told me when it first started, I’d be down to like only one snarky comment a day about it at this point.” Santana tossed the final comment over her shoulder as she left the bedroom._ _ _ _

____“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winked at a gaping Rachel as she left the apartment and closed the door._ _ _ _

____Her mind immediately turning back to Brittany, as it had done all day, as she walked back out into the New York street._ _ _ _

____________________________________________________________ _ _

____Quinn left the bedroom and sat down on the armrest of the couch Rachel was curled up on. She dropped a light kiss on the singer’s head, drawing her attention away from the script she had been studying._ _ _ _

____Rachel smiled up at Quinn and reached for her hand, “Quinn, I think I have something I need to tell you.”_ _ _ _

____Quinn shifted until she was sitting next to Rachel on the couch, body angled toward her, “What?” she asked slowly and suspiciously, wary that this had something to do with the comment Santana had made, alluding to their transgressions after Mr. Shue’s failed wedding._ _ _ _

____“Please don’t get upset at me for keeping it from you,” Rachel began._ _ _ _

____Quinn’s eyes narrowed, relieved that they weren’t going to discuss her past sexual escapades with Santana but unsure she wanted to hear whatever it was Rachel was going to say next, “go on,” she urged._ _ _ _

____“I uhm,” Rachel fidgeted under Quinn’s intense gaze, “I sort of knew that Brittany was back in town.”_ _ _ _

____“You what?” Quinn stared at Rachel in disbelief, “How did you know? How LONG have you known?”_ _ _ _

____Rachel sighed and straightened up a little, “She’s choreographing the dance routines for the new Broadway show I’m in. She’s been in town for the last year. I guess she really made an impression at the Art Institute, because she came very highly recommended as the next up-and-coming choreographer. She’s even dancing in the show. I didn’t really know how to tell you about it because I know that Santana’s been trying so hard to move on and well… I just didn’t know what to do.” She shrugged._ _ _ _

____Quinn’s mouth dropped open at all this new information. Brittany had been in town for a full year. Rachel had been working on this musical for at least 4 months, which means she had known about this for at least that long and said nothing._ _ _ _

____Rachel’s voice broke through her mental cartwheels, “Do you think we should tell Santana?”_ _ _ _

____“No.” Quinn replied instinctively, instantly. She looked over at Rachel, whose eyes were clouded with doubt, “No. I have a better idea.”_ _ _ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a long one!

“SANTANA, LET’S GO!” Quinn yelled up the stairs to Santana’s lofted bedroom, “YOU’RE GONNA MAKE US LATE AND I WILL NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT FROM RACHEL.”

“QUIT RUSHING ME, FABRAY, PERFECTION ISN’T INSTANTANEOUS!!”

Quinn checked her watch and realized that if they didn’t leave in the next 2 minutes, there was no way they would make it before the opening curtain. She stormed up the stairs, ready to drag Santana out by her hair.

She found Santana looking in the mirror, staring back at her with an arched eyebrow in the reflection, putting on her earrings.

Quinn let out a low whistle and had to admit that Santana did look good, in a tight black dress and heels to match. It was simple but elegant. She laughed, “You may take forever to get ready and come to every event late, but you always did look damn good doing it.”

Santana winked at her friend and then rolled her eyes, “Why are you forcing me to go to this damn thing anyway? It’s not like little miss Smurfette would notice if I didn’t come.”

“Do you hear yourself, Santana? Do you honestly believe that Rachel wouldn’t notice the second the show started if you weren’t in the audience? Despite your constant snark toward her, we all know that you’ve got a soft spot for her.”

Santana shot Quinn the most offended and disgusted look she could muster, “Do not.” Santana descended the stairs and grabbed her purse, but also snagged some flowers on her way out the door.

Quinn chuckled to herself as she followed, Santana bringing Rachel opening night flowers? How far they’d come.

__________________________________________________

Backstage, Rachel checked her phone and smiled at the message from Quinn that read, “Santana and I are on the way, can’t wait to watch you shine. Xoxo”  
“Who are you smiling at?” Brittany’s curious voice questioned from a few feet away.

Rachel looked up at the dancer and shook her head, “Nobody. So are you ready for tonight?”

“I’m nervous, to be honest. This is the first major show I’ve ever choreographed for, let alone danced in. What if it’s not good enough?” Brittany shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly.

“No, Brittany, it’s great! Your choreography is awesome, and the show is gonna be a hit! Tonight is going to be a great night for you!” Or at least, Rachel hoped the night was going to be a great night.

Brittany nodded her head as the lights dimmed and flicked back signaling that the show would be starting soon.

__________________________________________________

Quinn and Santana had taken their seats. Rachel had scored them seats in the third row, with an awesome view of the stage.

The lights were dimming when Santana leaned over to Quinn and whispered, “Your girlfriend got us nice seats, think it’s so she can stare at you while she sings? I’m pretty sure they can see us from the stage here.”

Quinn shoved Santana back into her own space and quipped, “She’s not my girlfriend, Santana.”

Santana rolled her eyes and muttered, “Sure she’s not, Quinn,” as the curtain opened.

She had to admit, Rachel was good. Rachel had always been an unbridled talent, of course, but she had really grown into her own over the past couple of years. Santana felt a certain amount of pride watching her friend act and sing on the stage before her. She didn’t even bother to make fun of Quinn every time she caught Rachel sneak a peak over to their seats, nor when Quinn broke out into a blinding smile.

The first 20 minutes of the musical was entertaining. The dialogue didn’t make Santana want to fall asleep, the music was complex and interesting, and the choreography was mesmerizing. Something about it seemed so familiar to Santana but she couldn’t figure out why… that is, until Rachel started singing about how she dreamed of becoming a dancer and the spotlight shifted over to a tall blonde, dancing alone on the far end of the stage. The song was sad, about dreams unreached and beauty in an unappreciated art; the dancer moved perfectly in tune, dancing circles around Rachel- turning the music into a painting.

Santana’s breath caught in her throat but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Brittany dancing on the stage in front of her.

If Rachel had improved as an actress and songstress, it was nothing compared to the way Brittany had matured into a professional dancer. Her body was stronger than it had been after high school. Her movements were impossibly more confident, complex, fluid. She was in an element entirely her own, and she was incredible.

Quinn peaked at Santana through her peripheral vision, afraid that Santana may be responding poorly to this turn of events. She’d had last second nerves about her decision to keep Santana in the dark about Brittany. She was certain that she would still experience Santana’s wrath about this later, but Quinn was certain she’d done the right thing. She knew that if she had told Santana, the girl wouldn’t have come to the show, wouldn’t have seen what the Art Institute had done for Brittany, and would never have started the process of healing their broken relationship. That was worth weathering Hurricane Santana any day in Quinn’s book.

For now though, Quinn couldn’t help but smile softly at the expression of wonder and adoration on Santana’s face. She watched as Santana watched Brittany move, the same way Santana used to watch Brittany in high school. Moments like this were moments when Santana forgot about the world around her and became nearly imperceptivity vulnerable to those who knew to look. These were the moments when her harsh exterior cracked just enough to see love shine through.

The moment was over too soon, and the scene ended, but not before Brittany caught a glimpse of soft eyes watching her from the third row. She had felt Santana’s gaze before she’d seen it, and part of her sad heart knit itself back together in that moment.

The final curtain fell and Santana immediately shot out of her seat, ready to make a run for the door.

“Don’t you want to give her the flowers you brought?” Quinn asked, checking her makeup in her compact mirror, not even bothering to leave her seat.

“Quinn, get up, you’re my ride. Let’s go.”

“Santana, don’t be ridiculous. I came to watch my girlfriend perform in her opening show and I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t your _girlfriend _,”__ Santana quipped back, delighted at Quinn’s verbal slip-up and momentarily forgetting her desire to be anywhere but here as quickly as possible.

 _ _“__ Oh, did I say girlfriend? _ _”__ Quinn touched her collarbone in feigned shock, but the glimmer in her eyes indicated it had been a calculated trap.

“San?”

 _ _S__ antana closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. She’d fallen right into Quinn’s plan. She’d allowed the cunning woman to distract her with a fake win just long enough that the very person she was trying to avoid had been granted the time needed to find her.

She glared at Quinn who mouthed, “Don’t you want to give her the flowers you brought?” She winked, spotted Rachel on the other side of the stage, and immediately walked away from a gaping Santana.

Brittany reached out and touched Santana’s shoulder, burning Santana where her fingertips met the exposed skin. The shattered glass in Santana’s chest rattled like a chandeliered swaying in the wind.

Slowly, Santana turned around and swallowed. She looked down at her hands, refusing to make eye contact with Brittany as she faced her.

When she finally worked up the courage to look up, Brittany immediately smiled a soft, small smile and said, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Santana smiled weakly back at her and then held up the flowers she’d brought for Rachel awkwardly. “Uhm, here.”

Brittany beamed and accepted the flowers before frowning slightly, “You didn’t know I was in this musical. I could tell by how startled you looked when I came on stage. How could you have brought me flowers?”

Santana fidgeted uncomfortably, Brittany had just admitted she’d found Santana the second she came on stage. How had she been able to spot her so quickly? Rather than replying to Brittany, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Santana Lopez, did you bring Rachel Berry flowers for her opening night?” Brittany teased as she repressed her laughter, knowing exactly how much this would embarrass Santana.

Santana blushed a deep crimson and immediately retorted, “What? Feed Berry’s ego. Yeah right, Britt!”

Both girls stopped and stared at each other for a fraction of a second at Brittany’s nick-name leaving Santana’s lips, but before the moment could get more awkward, Santana rolled her eyes and said, “okay fine. I brought them for Berry. But we both know that Quinn probably sent a truckload of flowers to her dressing room anyway, so it’s not like she needs them. Her ego is already the size of fucking Jupiter. Besides, I’d always thought that I’d be in the front row of your first big show, waiting for you after the curtain closed with a massive bouquet of flowers, so I’d rather you have them than Rachel anyway, even if they’re only a fraction as pretty as the ones I’d always pictured giving you.”  
Santana blushed at what she’d said during her desperate rambling. In an attempt to avoid an awkward moment, she’d said too much.

Brittany tilted her head thoughtfully and tried to bite back the gigantic smile she could feel forming. “Thank you, San.”

Santana rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, willing herself to find a way to exit this encounter. She could feel old emotions rumbling around in her chest. She was afraid that if she stayed there looking into Brittany’s sweet expression any longer, she’d start begging for forgiveness or accusing Brittany of replacing her the second she got the chance, or maybe both.

She’d make a scene and that just wasn’t an option unless she wanted to lose any chance at repairing whatever was left of her relationship with Brittany. Not to mention she was not about to have Rachel chattering at her like an angry chipmunk about causing a scene in her workspace.

“I always knew you’d light up a big-time stage.” Santana mumbled while staring at the space to the left of Brittany’s ear, “Look, Brittany, I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I have to go find Quinn.” It took every ounce of self-control Santana had, but she turned her back to Brittany.

“I know you wrote the song,” Brittany said softly just before Santana was out of hearing range.

Santana whipped her head around to stare long and hard at Brittany, who only looked back into her eyes.

“How could you possibly-“ Santana’s eyes clouded in total confusion, trying to work it out like a math problem. “How could you know that? My name isn’t attached to it anywhere, I didn’t even sing it.”

Brittany shrugged, “San, it doesn’t matter who sang it. I know you, I spent hours and hours watching you write songs. Even if I hadn’t the first two lines couldn’t have been written by anyone else.”

People were still meandering about the theater, but Santana hardly noticed them. Her world had shrunk down to include only Brittany and this entirely insane conversation. Out of all the music in the entire world, how had Brittany managed to pick out and uncover the single song Santana had ever written that exposed her deepest regrets?

_Running from love, I never learned right from wrong_  
_Afraid to stand too close to the setting sun._

_____________________________________________________

Brittany’s 20th birthday was spent in Battery Park. Santana had set up a picnic near the water and they were snuggled close together as the sun began to set over the city.  
Brittany’s head lifted off Santana’s shoulder long enough to press a sweet kiss to the space just under Santna’s jaw and Santana hummed at the sensation.

“San, which do you like better? Sunrise or sunset?” Brittany asked as she leaned her head back on Santana’s shoulder.

“Sunset. Definitely sunset,” Santana immediately answered without having to think about it.

Brittany absentmindedly ran her fingers up and down Santana’s forearm thoughtfully. “Why sunset?”

“Honestly?” Santana sat up so she could look in Brittany’s eyes. When Brittany nodded encouragement for Santana to continue, Santana smiled.

“Sunsets remind me of you, Britt. At the beginning, the colors are so vibrant. The pinks and purples are super rich, unlike sunrise when they’re washed out versions of themselves. And then when the sun sinks deeper, it sets the entire sky on fire. That’s what you do to me, you make the colors in my world richer and set my soul on fire. And then, once the sun sets, it means the stars come out, and there’s something so comforting about knowing that stars are waiting for you even in the dark. Sunsets make me think of you.”

Somewhere in the middle of her little speech, Santana’s gaze had turned to the setting sun, but when she looked back at Brittany she was immediately met with a passionate kiss. Brittany smiled into the kiss and started giggling until Santana pulled back to look at her girlfriend.

“What’s so funny?”

“Santana Lopez,” Brittany laughed, “do you think the rest of the world can see what a giant sap you are?”

Santana playfully batted at Brittany and rolled her eyes, “Britt, stop it,” she whined and hid her face.

Brittany pulled Santana into her arms and when she finally coaxed the smaller woman out of hiding she smiled and said, “Hi Baby.”

“Hey,” Santana grinned back.

“I love you,” Brittany said and pressed a kiss to Santana’s temple.  
_____________________________________________________________________

In a haze, Santana remembered she was standing in the middle of a theater, Brittany staring at her patiently waiting for her to come out of her memory.

“Do you still think of me when the sun sets?” Brittany asked in a whisper.

When Santana shook her head no, Brittany’s face fell.

“I think about you all the time,” Santana mumbled.

Brittany’s head shot up and she reached out to take Santana’s hand and before she could react, Brittany tugged her along behind her.

“Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

What else could Santana do but follow?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're talking! Yay!! I'm itching to write some fluff, so I'll try to get some new chapters out soon!

“Britt, where are we going?” Santana murmured, unable to concentrate on anything other than the burning warmth radiating up her arm, originating where Brittany’s palm pressed firmly against her own.

Brittany tossed a look back over her shoulder at the other girl’s face, only to find that Santana was staring at their hands, “not far.”

Brittany pulled Santana backstage and through a back door into a stairwell. She tugged Santana up flight after flight of stairs until they came to a door. Brittany pushed it open and a warm night breeze rushed inside.

The view of the city was impressive on the roof. The show had ended sometime around 10:30 pm, so Santana guessed that it had to be close to 11 by now- even so, New York City was bustling with life and light.

Brittany let go of Santana and gestured toward the city, large grin spread wide across her face, “We’re here. Isn’t it a beautiful view?”

Santana turned her head toward the view Brittany was gesturing at and shook her head, dazzled by the many lights, “Yeah, but I’ve seen better,” she said, thinking back to seeing Brittany dancing in their old apartment- unaware that Santana had been watching- just a few short months ago.

Brittany was unfazed by Santana’s half-appreciation, all too aware that most of the time, Santana’s words hid something more meaningful beneath them, even when Brittany didn’t know exactly what it was.

Brittany walked toward the edge of the building and leaned on the half wall. Santana’s eyes followed her movement, but her feet stayed put. Being around Brittany like this felt so natural. So calming and peaceful, despite the fact that a million anxieties were weighing on her chest. It was a conflicting sensation and Santana didn’t know what to do with it.

Finally, the never-ending pull toward the blonde overcame her fear and she stepped up next to her, and leaned her hip against the wall so that she was facing Brittany.

Brittany felt the warmth of Santana’s proximity as she joined her at the wall, could feel the burning of her deep brown eyes as they stared intently, but she did not look over, “You saw me dancing.”

Santana nodded, “Yeah, your solo while Rachel singing was amazing.”

Brittany’s gaze remained on the horizon, but a slight blush crept into her cheeks, “Oh. Thanks,” she said quietly, “but I didn’t mean tonight.”

Realization dawned on Santana, “Oh. To my song.” She nodded in affirmation, but mostly to herself.

Brittany turned to face her then, expression changing from content and contorting into confusion, "I thought that maybe after you ran away and calmed down that you might, like, call… or something,” she shrugged as the last two words hung lamely in the air.

Santana averted her eyes, feeling guilty and a little angry.

Brittany continued, “but when a month went by and I still hadn’t heard from you, I thought maybe I should call you. Except when I tried to, all I got was a never-ending ring and I thought maybe you were abducted by aliens or something.”

Santana quirked an eyebrow and her lips twitched into the smallest bemused smirk, “aliens?”

Brittany deadpanned, “Well I don’t know, do I? So I called Quinn just to, like, make sure you weren’t abducted and being probed” Santana’s eyebrow arched higher, “and that’s when Quinn told me that you had changed your phone number.”

Santana’s amused expression dropped quickly as she shrugged. What did Brittany want her to say? She flashed back to the day she’d decided to change her number in the first place.  
  
______________________________________________________

She’d been out drinking. Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel, and Kurt had tried to get Santana to come out with them to a different club, but Santana wasn’t in the mood to go out dancing and watch all her friends laughing and living it up when she felt so dead inside.

No, tonight was about drinking into oblivion and finding someone warm to crawl on top of. She poured back glass after glass of whiskey, and with each new drink she felt her eyes grow darker along with her mood. Despite having had three separate women hit on her that night, she just couldn’t bring herself to take them up on their very forward offers.

She was standing up to leave when a flash of blonde at the end of the bar caught her eye and her heart stuttered with longing. The tall blonde turned, and blue eyes met brown. That was all it took for Santana to throw back the final sip of her whiskey and strut directly up to the other woman.

She didn’t say a word, but eyes connected and after a second, the blonde ducked her head slightly in agreement to the silent question. Santana took her by the hand roughly and dragged her back to the bar bathroom.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut and clicked the lock before immediately turning and roughly closing the gap between herself and the blonde. She shoved her up against the door and connected their lips. The kiss was rushed and sloppy, filled with need.

The taller blonde let out a loud moan when Santana bit her bottom lip and slid her thigh between the other girl’s legs, rocking up harshly. Santana smirked darkly as the other woman pushed her away to create just enough room to rip Santana’s shirt off. Santana countered by yanking the blonde’s dress up around her stomach and was beginning to pull down her panties when the sound of her phone ringing cut through the air. Santana frowned.

She felt hot lips on her neck, but her phone was still ringing. “Ignore it,” the girl husked into her neck before sucking harshly. But Disco Duck was not a ringtone Santana could easily ignore. She pushed the other woman off of her and frowned again as she looked into her eyes. _Wrong shade of blue,_ Santana cursed under her breath at her involuntary thought.

“I’m sorry, I...I have to take this,” and just like that, Santana whipped out her phone, unlocked the door, and walked briskly out the backdoor and into the alley behind the bar.

She hit the talk button, “Hello?”

“Saaaantaaaaanaaa!”

“Britt?” Santana shivered, it had been a year and a half since she heard that voice from behind a closed door in LA, but Santana told herself she was shivering because of the fall breeze and not because of how happy the other person sounded when she said her name. Santana crossed her arms and began the 2 block walk back to her loft.

“Hiiiii baby!!” slurred the voice on the other end of the line.

“Brittany, are you drunk?” Santana asked, irritation creeping into her voice.

“Thatisnot how you’re s’posedta answer,” Brittany pouted.

Santana felt immediately, impossibly sober. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just dandy, ya know? Dandy like a duck! Or maybe a porcupine,” Brittany mumbled into the receiver, sounding confused. Santana pictured Brittany clutching the phone to her ear, head cocked to one side, mouth twisted up into a confused pout, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. She shook her head to get the adorable image out of her mind.

She could make out the harsh pumping of dance music in the background and wondered where Brittany was in that moment, why she was alone.

“Santana,” Brittany breathed into the phone, “I’m sleepy.”

Santana had made it back to her loft, unlocked the door, and slipped inside- kicking off her thigh high boots in the process while leaning against the inside of her front door.

“Uhm, well, maybe call yourself a cab and go home and go to sleep then?” Santana asked, concern lightly tinging her soft tone despite the rising anger she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Brittany had no right to call her like this from across the country. She had a boyfriend to call for shit like this. Where the fuck was that giant-mouthed, platinum haired, boy band wannabe anyway?

“No Santana, you don’t understand” Brittany said desperately into the phone, “I can’t _sleep_ without _you_ in my arms.”

Santana’s breath caught in her throat, she dropped her head back against the door and her legs felt too weak to hold her anymore, so she just slid down the door while she felt her heart break again and again in quick succession. In the space between one second to the next, she processed two things:  
  
1\. This was the last time she would be hearing Brittany’s voice, because she knew that when the dancer woke up the next day, she wouldn’t remember the conversation and would probably go back to hating Santana for the shit she had said when they broke up and

2\. She was still hopelessly, irrevocably, inevitably in love with this girl, and she always would be.

Glass shattered in the background, and the sound of Sam’s voice filtered through the speaker, “Britt! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Let’s go home, baby.”

Brittany’s giggle seemed distant, like she’d forgotten that she had been on the phone seconds before, “Okay Sammy!” she laughed.

The five seconds that followed were only the background noises of the party and the muffling of what Santana assumed to be Brittany’s shirt against her now stowed phone. Santana cursed and hit the red button to end the call.

If the neighbors heard the crashing of glass as Santana released her anger and frustration on her entire cabinet of dinner plates, they thankfully never complained.

Santana changed her phone number the next day, deciding then and there that she wouldn’t let Brittany shatter what was left of her heart like that ever again.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Santana looked back up into blue eyes, the perfect shade of a summer day and home. She couldn’t stop the slow tears from building up in her eyes, but she also refused to look away from Brittany. She’d had that shade of blue memorized for years, but somehow it just never seemed like she could get enough.

“I changed my number a couple years ago, yeah.” Santana said.

Brittany’s brow furrowed when she asked, “Why?”

Santana shook her head, unable to answer. The fact that Brittany had only recently figured out that Santana had changed her phone number meant that she hadn’t tried to contact her at all in the last two and a half years. Santana let out a long and very heavy breath as she felt the familiar shattering in her chest. How many times could a broken heart fracture again?

“Why did you go back to Sam?” She hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t planned to be so incredibly confrontational right off the bat, but she just couldn’t help it. She spat the question in Brittany’s face while crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Arched an eyebrow in accusation and watched as shock stuttered across Brittany’s face.

“How did you know that?” She asked quietly, a mixture of confusion and concern washing into her eyes before she looked down at her feet, which were shifting uncomfortably from one to the other.

Santana could feel the anger, hurt, and frustration bubbling up inside of her. She knew that venom was mixing with her words in her brain and that nothing good would come of this but this was who she was.

“You know what Brittany? If I had known—” Santana shut her mouth abruptly. She had been about to throw a biphobic insult at Brittany.

Usually, the Auntie Snixx portion of her served her well. Sure, people didn’t like Santana because she was a bitch, but her sharp words kept her safe and helped her slash down any competition.

Except, Brittany was not her competition, and although she was the source of the greatest amount of pain Santana had ever had to endure, she was also the one person Santana wanted most to protect in this world. She was so angry with Brittany, but also, Santana knew she had pushed Brittany straight into Sam’s ever so willing arms. Santana had matured since high school and wasn’t willing to let her tempter tear down the sweetest soul she’d ever come across anymore. All that had ever accomplished was hurting Brittany and making Santana feel even worse.

Santana huffed and ran a frustrated hand through her hair, turning to look back out at the view.

She tried again, “If I had known that you were going to go back to him, I’d have come to LA sooner.” She dropped her head in defeat.

Brittany reached out and gently tucked a finger under Santana’s chin, coaxing her to look up, “You came to LA?”

“Yeah, that’s how I know about you and Sam and your happy little life. Didn’t take long did it?” Santana rolled her eyes at the jab she couldn’t help throwing in at the end. She wasn’t perfect, okay?

“I couldn’t sleep,” Brittany mumbled, dropping her hand from Santana’s chin. She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder, “I couldn’t sleep and was kind of wandering around campus like a zombie. I dunno how many days I was awake for, maybe 2 or 3 but I was starting to think I actually was a zombie when I ran into a pizza guy on a bike. I knocked him right off the bike and the pizza went everywhere.”

Santana chuckled at the image, but didn’t interrupt Brittany.

“Anyway, the pizza man ended up being Sam and I must have looked terrible, because he told me, ‘you look terrible’.” Brittany peaked up from her eyelashes and smiled a little at Santana, “So he took me to the coffee shop and made me drink some caffeine.”

Santana just shook her head, knowingly. She almost pitied past Sam for this mistake. Santana would never have taken Brittany for caffeine. She’d have just brought her straight home, read her the bedtime story about the little lost duckling, and she’d have been out like a light.

Brittany on caffeine was like a kitten on cat-nip.

“He kinda freaked out when I started acting… well, ya know,” Brittany rolled her eyes playfully. “Anyway, he eventually got me home and was going to leave, but I asked him to stay. Santana you have to understand, I couldn’t sleep without—”

“—something in your arms,” Santana cut Brittany off before she could finish because she didn’t think she would be able to refrain from pulling Brittany in an kissing her right then and there if she had said what Santana knew Brittany was about to say. It wasn’t the time, they had so much to discuss and repair. Who even knew if there would ever be the time for that again? All Santana knew was that if she kissed Brittany now, she’d never be able to stop… and also that she didn’t want to kiss Brittany just after discussing her relationship with Trouty Mouth. Santana’s frown deepened and her eyes immediately shot to Brittany’s.

“Wait, are you still with him?”

“No,” Brittany nearly cut Santana off with the speed of her reply.

Santana nodded, “Okay, okay,” she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.

“You came to LA.” Brittany repeated, this time an amazed statement instead of a question.

“I came to LA.” Santana confirmed, as she turned toward the city again.

They both stared up at the night sky. The city lights were so bright, that there were no stars to be found, even in the cloudless night sky.

“It was like this in LA too,” Brittany broke the silence.

“Hmmm?” Santana questioned.

“Too bright for the stars,” Brittany clarified. Santana simply nodded.

Brittany cleared her throat as quietly as possible, causing Santana’s ever so slight smile to return because she knew that Brittany did this when she was nervous.

“I just had to keep reminding myself that the stars were still out there, even if I couldn’t see them anymore,” she peaked at Santana without turning her head, “and I kept hoping they’d be just as bright when I finally went back to someplace I could see them again.”

Santana felt something flutter in her chest. Something that felt suspiciously like a functioning heart. She reached out and linked her pinky with Brittany’s but couldn’t find any words to say.

Brittany didn’t need her to reply though, they both had always understood each other perfectly and that, at least, had not changed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say for this one is I'm so soooorry for the continued angst, but it's gotta happen! Can't mess with my girl Britt and get away with it!

Santana woke up feeling lighter than she had in years. Rather than the usual unbearable ache in her chest and stomach, she felt like she could actually breathe…despite the dull headache pounding in her temple.

She rolled over and caught a mouth full of blonde hair and frowned for a second, still hazy from sleep and a tiny bit hungover.

She grabbed her pillow and thwacked it into the girl dozing next to her, smirking with evil amusement.

“What the FUCK?” Quinn groaned angrily, albeit sleepily, and sat up. She glared daggers at Santana, “What is your _problem_?”

Santana smiled sweetly, “There was a bug.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, “There was no bug.”

“There was a bug,” Santana rolled her shoulders back into a shrug and lifted her arms as if to indicate she had no choice. She got out of bed and strode out the door, down the stairs, across her empty living room, to her kitchen.

“There was no fucking bug,” Quinn grumbled to herself as she collapsed back down onto the bed and pulled the pillow back over her head.

“Q, DON’T THINK THAT I WON’T THROW ANOTHER PILLOW AT YOU IF YOU DON’T GET OUT HERE IN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES,” Santana called from the kitchen.

Quinn cursed under her breath, but knew that Santana wasn’t joking. She dragged herself out of bed and walked out toward the kitchen.

Quinn sleepily slid onto the kitchen barstool as Santana looked up from the take-out menu she was studying and quirked an eyebrow at her friend.

“You let a girl sleep in your bed and suddenly they think that it’s okay to walk around your place like they live here,” Santana said rolling her eyes at Quinn’s confused expression.

Santana gestured down to Quinn’s bare legs, “I mean, not that I’m complaining because you’re hot and all, but sometimes a girl likes to use a little more imagination.” Santana winked and Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Is it my fault you haven’t done laundry in a week?” Quinn shot at Santana.

“Is it my fault you didn’t bring your own shorts?” Santana rebutted.

“How was I supposed to know that I’d need shorts? Rachel was the one who decided we were going to go out to that bar after her show last night!”

Santana considered the statement, “Where is your little hobbit anyway?” she looked around warily as if Rachel might ambush her with a showtune at any second.

“She took a cab home,” Quinn waved a hand dismissively at Santana’s name calling, “I told her she could crash here too, considering your place is only a ten minute walk from the bar and her place is a 25 minute drive, but she said she didn’t have her moisturizer products for her skin care ritual and called a cab.”

Santana snorted indignantly and slid the take-out menu toward Quinn, “Alright, choose what you want for breakfast. You’re paying.”

Quinn looked coolly across the counter at Santana, “Why am I paying?”

“That’s the price for crashing with Auntie Tana,” she shrugged, “I don’t make the rules, I just live here.”

Quinn’s mouth dropped just a tiny bit in indignation, “What do you mean you don’t make the rules? You _literally_ just made that rule up. I’ve crashed here hundreds of times and that’s never been a thing.”

Santana winked and opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door.

Quinn scrunched up her face in confusion and looked at Santana, who pointed at herself, cocked her head to the side and pointed back at Quinn as if counting.

“Who is…?” Quinn asked as Santana strode over to the door and looked out the peep hole. The color drained from Santana’s face as she whipped back around to look at Quinn in terror.

Quinn immediately stood up and quickly ran over to look out the peep hole for herself.

Brittany was standing outside looking expectantly at the door, holding a brown paper grocery bag. Her hair was pulled back in a peppy ponytail and she was sporting a T-shirt that had a cat dressed like a taco on it and leggings. She did not look even a little bit hung-over.

Quinn pulled back from the door and fixed Santana with an amused look, “I thought it might have been like the cops or something, the way you reacted, but it’s just Brittany.”

When Santana continued to gape at her Quinn giggled and opened the door.

“Brittany! Hey!” Quinn smiled warmly at the other blonde.

“Hi Quinn!” Brittany happily greeted her, but her smile dropped as she took in Quinn’s appearance, “uh sorry… am I, like, interrupting something or…?”

Quinn looked confused but said, “No, not at all, come in!”

When they entered the apartment, Santana was nowhere to be seen. Quinn scratched her head and looked around, “huh that’s weird. Santana was literally just here.”

“Oh no, not the aliens again,” Brittany said in a concerned tone.

“I don’t think it was aliens, Brittany, but just to be sure, maybe you should go check the window in the music studio to make sure they didn’t break in or something?” Quinn pointed Brittany down the hallway in an attempt to momentarily distract her.

When Brittany had wandered down the hallway, Quinn ran to the middle of the living room and was ready to jog up the stairs when something thwacked into her face.

“What the hell?” Quinn hissed, looking up at the balcony to see a frazzled Santana frantically gesturing toward the door. “What has gotten into you?”

“Get _out_ Fabray!” she hissed.

Quinn looked down at what had been hurled at her face and saw that it was a pair of Santana’s sweatpants. “Well I _never_ ,” she muttered to herself as she pulled them on and shook her head at her friend who was currently looking uncharacteristically like a cornered animal.

“Good news is that the window is shut tight, so it probably wasn’t aliens… but that doesn’t rule out ghosts or leprechauns,” Brittany had returned.

Quinn stepped up and hugged Brittany tightly for a second before saying, “I actually think she just ran up to her room real quick, she should be right down! I forgot that I promised to have brunch with Rachel, so I’m terribly sorry to answer the door and run, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Brittany nodded and smiled and with that, Quinn strode quickly out the door.

Left alone in the entryway, Brittany got her first good look at the apartment. Her jaw slacked a little at the view from the ceiling to floor windows in the living room. She loved how the natural light cascaded throughout the apartment, which was completely lit without the need for any of the lights to be on.

Brittany had walked over to one of the windows and was wondering what it would feel like to fly when she heard stirring by the stairs and saw Santana sitting at the top of them, hands propping her chin up, elbows on her knees, faint smile ghosting her face.

“Hey,” Santana said.

Brittany smiled, “Hi, San.”

Santana stood up and walked down the stairs as she ran her hand through her hair.

“Hey Britt, sorry if this is a stupid question, but what are you doing here?”

Brittany tilted her head curiously, “Like on earth? Or like at your place?”

Santana chuckled, “You know what I mean.”

Brittany smiled back, “Yeah, I know what you mean. You asked me to come over, remember?”

Santana shook her head and started picking at her nails, “Sorry…Quinn, Rachel, and I went out last night and we got pretty drunk, but I don’t remember asking you to come over?”

“Oh, here hold on.” Brittany pulled out her phone and passed it to Santana and Santana immediately internally chastised herself.

San:  
 _“Hey Britt, thanks for tonight.”_  
 _“Oh it’s San, btw. Forgot you don’t have my number.”_

Britt:  
 _“I had a good time too, San.”_  
 _“Thanks for sharing your new number with me.”_

Okay, Santana had been tipsy when she sent these, but not blacked. She relaxed a little, thankful she hadn’t said anything embarrassing…but she scrolled a little further down and realized there was more. Two hours later, she’d texted again.

San:  
 _“Heyyyy Britt?”_

FOUR ‘y’s?! Santana felt like smacking herself in the head. Drunk Santana was a thirsty bitch.

Britt:  
 _“Santana?”_

San:  
 _“Will yo. Come over tomorrow fit beakfahst?”_

Britt:  
 _“What?”_  
 _“Oh come over for breakfast?”_  
 _“Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”_

San:  
 _“Okay.”_

45 minutes later….

_“I’d like that too.”_

And then Santana had sent her address.

Santana brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed it before sheepishly sliding her hand back behind her neck and looking up at Brittany. Brittany let out a laugh and held up the grocery bag she was holding.

“I brought orange Juice and those breakfast sandwiches they already have made at the deli.”

Santana’s stomach chose that exact moment to growl causing Santana to look down at it in complete disbelief that it would betray her like that.

Brittany laughed again, “Come on, let’s eat.”

Santana pulled out two glasses and filled them with orange juice while Brittany pulled out the sandwiches and slid one down the counter to Santana, “Bacon.”

Santana smiled gratefully and immediately took a bite. They ate in a comfortable silence, Brittany gazing at the apartment, getting lost in the artwork Santana had hung on the walls. Santana watching Brittany with a worry line appearing on her forehead.

When they’d finished eating, the silence became a little awkward until Brittany finally worked up the courage to ask the question she’d been wondering since Quinn had answered the door.

“So uh, Quinn spent the night?”

Santana raised both her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes wondering where this was going, “she did.”

“So does that mean you guys are like a-“ Brittany paused.

Santana’s eyes narrowed further, was she sensing some jealousy? “A what, Brittany?”

“-like…a thing?” Brittany finally looked up from her glass of orange juice and caught Santana’s defensive facial expression. Brittany narrowed her own eyes back and said, “What? I feel like that’s a fair question considering you only have one bed in this apartment, Quinn slept over, you guys have _slept_ together before after Mr. Shue’s non-wedding, and she was only wearing one of your T-shirts and a pair of underwear when she opened the door this morning.” Brittany had been ticking off her points on her fingers.

Santana could feel irritation ticking at her insides again, annoyed at the fact that Brittany would bring up the fact that Quinn and Santana had slept together at the wedding, considering that Brittany and Sam had definitely gotten it on together that same night. The thought of Brittany and Sam together is what pushed Santana’s anger over the edge.

“What’s it to you, Brittany? So what if Quinn and I _are_ a thing?” she spat.

Brittany was taken aback by the sneering tone in Santana’s voice. She knew she didn’t really have a leg to stand on here, considering that she and Santana had only actually been back in each other’s lives for the last 24 hours and also considering that she wasn’t even sure if they were technically friends anymore. However, she also didn’t really feel like this was a completely inappropriate question considering she and Santana had a history and also the fact that Quinn had been half naked in Santana’s apartment.

Brittany’s insides were all tangled up and confused. Last night had seemed like such a good step in the right direction for them. Why did this feel like they were taking a step back? And why hadn’t Santana mentioned that she was seeing Quinn?

“You know Brittany, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a little jealous.” Santana’s low voice spat cruelly, “which is _funny_ , don’t you think?”

The way Santana was talking reminded Brittany of the time way back in high school right after she had told Brittany that she loved her, but then later tried to take it back and pretend like she didn’t know what she was thinking. She felt a harsh pang in her stomach at the memory.

Santana was finding a rhythm in her rant, “ _Funny_ , because you had NO PROBLEM replacing me just months after we broke up, but here we are FIVE YEARS LATER and somehow the possibility that Quinn and I could be together becomes your business?”

“ _Funny_ , because if you were working on that musical with Berry all this time, you’ve been in NYC for at least 6 months…but I have a hunch that you’ve actually been back in New York for longer.”

Brittany’s eyes darted away from Santana’s, and that’s when Santana knew she’d been right. That only fueled her anger now, and despite her best attempts to control her rage the night before, she couldn’t hold back this time. She must not have matured as much as she thought.

“ _Funny_ , because in all that time you were living in our apartment and didn’t bother to try to find me. Why is that Britt? You could have just asked Rachel! Is it because you were _fucking_ Sam in our old bedroom?”

Santana’s eyes widened a little at that last sentence. She hadn’t planned to say that, but it just popped out- her jealousy rising out of her like an ill-contained forest fire. She quickly rearranged her expression back to cool, collected anger. She’d already dug a hole this deep, may as well commit now.

Brittany’s eyes immediately whipped back to meet Santana’s and she stood up. “You know what Santana?” She took a step toward the brunette. “You keep talking about Sam like you know what happened. Like you know what I went through when you _left_ me. When you kicked me out of our apartment and told me I was too stupid for you to love.”

Santana’s expression faltered, her usually fire filled eyes dimmed a little, turning soft as they met Brittany’s. Usually this would have been enough for Brittany to pull her in close and comfort her, but not this time.

“I was so in love with you. I was so sure that we were right for each other and that we were going to create this awesome life together. So certain that our wedding day would only be like the 50th best day of my life, because we would just keep having better days! I would have done anything for you, Santana!”

Brittany had closed the space between them and was standing directly in front of Santana now, her eyes a deep blue shade of hurt and anger.

Santana now had tears welling in her eyes and was beginning to look alarmingly like a kicked puppy, “I know, Britt. I know you would have—that’s why I had to push you away,” Santana said quietly without making eye contact.

That stopped Brittany’s rant momentarily as she puzzled over Santana’s words for a few minutes and let out a frustrated groan.

“I don’t know what your reasons are, Santana, because you didn’t _talk_ to me.”

The sentence hung in the air between them like a tightrope. A chance for Santana to take a step out on the line and meet Brittany halfway, but she was so ashamed that she couldn’t respond.

Brittany sighed, tone more even but still just as stern, “Look, Santana, you didn’t talk to me. All I knew was that the person I loved and wanted to be with most in this world had just decided she couldn’t love me anymore. I was in a new town, a new state, all alone and there was Sam. He was kind and he was loving and he was like a Band-Aid on my heart. I’m not going to sit here and let you make me feel guilty for allowing myself to be loved. Sam helped me fix what you broke, and you don’t get to have any opinion on that.”

Brittany turned on her heel and left Santana in the kitchen alone. She strode toward the door before stopping, “I loved Sam and I’m thankful I had him.” Her voice no longer held the sternness it had moments before.

Santana felt like she was going to throw up her breakfast.

“But a Band-Aid can’t heal a bullet hole. So the answer to your question is no, I wasn’t _fucking_ him in our bedroom.” Brittany had a hand on the doorknob but turned her body just enough to look back at Santana one last time, sadness in her eyes, and then she walked out the door.

Santana once again slid to the floor of her studio apartment and fell apart.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick follow-up chapter
> 
> *****the song in this chapter is by The Ballroom Thieves****  
> I do not own it, and I did not write the lyrics. I wanted to use this as a shout-out to encourage everyone to go listen to this song, because it's awesome!
> 
> Hit me with the kudos if you're enjoying the story :)

Two weeks went by and Santana hadn’t said a word to anyone, other than to call in to work and tell them that she’d be working from home.

She spent the weeks in her home music studio writing song after song. Some of them were complete trash. Two of them, though, Santana knew, were the beggings of songs that were sure to be hits.

A knock at the door that Santana assumed was her take-out order had her headed toward her door. She was wearing her old cheerio’s sweatshirt and a pair of PJ bottoms that had a hole in the knee. Her hair was falling out of an already messy bun, and she had dark circles under her eyes from late nights plucking away at her guitar.

She opened the door and was greeted with a jaw splintering slap that rang up into the high-ceilinged apartment and down the apartment complex hallway. Santana’s eyes clouded with anger as her left hand immediately came up to soothe the stinging in her face.

Quinn simply turned on her heel and stomped back down the hallway from where she came.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Santana yelled at her back.

Quinn glanced over her shoulder, “It was a wakeup call Santana, get your head out of your ass and fix it.” Quinn was gone as quickly as she’d appeared.

Santana grumbled something about wishing an eternity of labor pains on Quinn as she headed to her freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, hissing at the cold and pain as she eased them onto her cheek. She started walking back toward the music room when the gravity of Quinn’s words came back and it felt like they slapped her all over again.

She dropped the peas, grabbed her favorite guitar and slung it over her back. She was out the door and jogging before she’d completely processed her plan.

_______________________

A knock at the door had Brittany setting down her orange juice and heading to the door, confused about who might be visiting her this early. There was not matinee today, so she figured Rachel wouldn’t be picking her up for the musical for another few hours.

She opened the door to an extremely exhausted looking, out of breath Santana, whose forehead was glistening slightly with sweat.

Tired of the arguing and mood swings, and wishing to avoid another conversation about Sam, Brittany rolled her eyes, “Go away, Santana, I have nothing to say to you.” Brittany moved to shut the door.

Santana stuck a toe between the door and the frame, “No Brittany, this time I have something I want to say to you!” she pleaded desperately.

Brittany gazed coolly down at Santana, and for once, Santana couldn’t read the emotion behind the blue. Her stomach backflipped nervously and she fidgeted with the strap of her guitar, “I uh...I… well I wrote a new song and I was hoping you’d be willing to listen to it?”

Brittany considered this for what seemed like hours, and then finally stepped aside and let Santana into the apartment.

Santana wasted no time in striding into the living room and sitting down on the floor. She pulled her guitar around front and immediately checked to make sure the strings were still in tune.

Brittany walked around her watching warily, like Santana might disappear at any second. She sat down on the couch across from Santana and tilted her head curiously.

“It’s not perfect yet, but I’m hoping you’ll like it anyway,” Santana said while still staring at her strings. Brittany had a hunch she was talking about more than just the song she was about to play.

Santana took in a deep breath and sang:

_“Oh! I came in on bended knee._  
_It wasn't hard to fall for me._  
_You stood beneath a burning tree_  
_And hoped to rescue leaves._

_I figured it's the things I've done_  
_Something about the woman I've become_  
_Hey, look at all the hearts we've won,_  
_These restless little thieves.”_

Santana’s raspy voice was filled with emotion, but she still couldn’t look up from her guitar.

_“Shiver through the words I said,_  
_They're warmer than the ones that never left my head._  
_I've made an ocean of this bed_  
_And now I beg you'd starve to row through it.”_

Brittany’s heart panged at that verse, and when Santana’s glistening and pain filled eyes finally looked up searching for hers, her entire demeanor softened.

_“Well, you can let your arrows sing!_  
_I've never met a man of iron skin,_  
_But you know, archers never made good kings,_  
_Fly headfirst into everything._

_I settle into heart and soul,_  
_Sell the only thing that I could never own,_  
_We fell into these arms_  
_And now we'll risk our limbs to find out_  
_Who we are.”_

Santana took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she knew would be the hardest part of the song to sing to Brittany. She smiled sadly at the dancer and sang on,

_“I can try to get you closer,_  
_But I know you'd break your neck_  
_Just to see the stars._

_And if we don't dare to hold it_  
_Then this reckless, wandering love_  
_Was never ours.”_

Brittany had tears in her eyes to match Santana’s now, as Santana sang out the chorus one more time to reach the end of the song.

_“Archers never made good kings,_  
_Fly headfirst into everything_  
_Archers never made good kings,_  
_Fly headfirst into everything_  
_Oh, I came in on bended knee.”_

Santana dragged out the last note, and when it was finished, she dropped her hands and let the guitar rest on her lap unsupported. She immediately brought her hands together and started picking at her nails, feeling nervous and incredibly vulnerable.

When Brittany said nothing, Santana peaked up at her through her eyelashes only to find Brittany watching her intensely. Santana understood, Brittany had no plans to say anything. She was testing Santana, waiting to see if she really meant the words she had sung. Patiently wondering whether Santana was willing, now, to step out on the tightrope and risk falling.

“I owe you an apology,” Santana said remorsefully, receiving raised eyebrows and noting the subtle relaxing of muscles in Brittany’s jaw.

“I’m sorry for what I said in my apartment. I’m sorry for being unfair about Sam, I know you didn’t do anything wrong and I’m trying to move past it. It’s just hard for me to think of you with him because it brings back so many memories. What if you would have been happier with him than with me? Especially since you always seem to go back to him?” She was trying to apologize, not talk about Sam, but she didn’t know how to do one without explaining her feelings about the other. Brittany didn’t respond, so she continued.

“You were right though, I pushed you away. I didn’t talk to you, and I don’t have any business being angry at you for what you did to get over me. I just want you to know that pushing you away was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve regretted it every single minute of the past five years.”

She was getting nervous at Brittany’s lack of input now. She’d moved to her knees in front of Brittany at this point, begging her to understand.

“You’re a genius, Brittany. I never should have made the decision for you to leave for us, I know you can make your own decisions. I just didn’t want you to make a mistake by not following your dreams, and I didn’t want to be the one to hold you back. You’re a genius,” She reached out and timidly took Brittany’s hand, mildly surprised when Brittany allowed it, “I’ve never thought you were stupid a day in my life, and I’m sorry I lied and said so. I just didn’t know what else to do to get you to go to LA.”

She finished lamely and hated herself for being so bad with words and her inability to craft a beautiful apology. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, ashamed.


	13. Chapter 13

The sunlight filtered through the window of the apartment and framed Santana’s face, causing the tears on her cheeks to glisten. The space between the two of them was silent, Santana having finished her apology five minutes ago, but Brittany neither speaking nor turning away from Santana.

Connected only by the hand Santana had reached out to catch between her own.

Brittany shook her head slowly from side to side and Santana closed her eyes in defeat, removing her hand from Brittany’s. 

“Oh,” was all Santana could manage to say, the familiar numb feeling beginning to seep back into her bones.

Brittany immediately looked alarmed, “Wait no, sorry! I wasn’t shaking my head to, like ,reject your song or something. I just…” she frowned slightly, “I just don’t understand how you can be so full of angry fire one day, and on another, your eyes turn so soft when you look at me; it’s a very overwhelming feeling.”

Santana was wearing the faintest ghost of a smile when Brittany finished. She gave the tiniest shrug Brittany had ever seen, “old habit.”

A silence fell between them again.

“San, do you think we can work this out and be friends?”

Santana smiled, “I’ve never wanted anything so bad, Britt. Not even breadsticks from Breadsticks,” she winked, relieved.

Brittany’s laugh rang through the air, and the numbness had completely disappeared from Santana’s body. Brittany reached out and wiped the tears from Santana’s cheek and Santana couldn’t stop herself from leaning slightly into Brittany’s touch.

If Brittany noticed, she didn’t let on, “Do you want to watch some TV or something?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Santana replied. They settled back into Brittany’s new couch in their old apartment and spent the rest of the afternoon watching reruns of Buffy.

_________________________________________________________________________-

The paint that splashed across Santana’s face and slid down her cheek reminded her very vaguely of the slushies she had taken to the face in high school. Both substances were cold and both felt like getting slapped in the face with an iceberg. They were of similar consistency, and both were sure to stain her clothes.

There were, however, two very important distinctions.

1\. She hadn’t gotten a full Big Gulp cup’s worth of pain tossed at her face, only a swipe of a paintbrush with a healthy scoop of the stuff on it, and   
2\. Instead of searing rage bursting forth from the very depths of Mount Doom, all Santana could feel when the paint made contact with her face was unabashed joy.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” she growled playfully as she reached for the roller and dunked it into the paint tray threateningly. 

Brittany scrunched up her nose and smiled sweetly back at Santana, “It was an accident?”

Santana raised her eyebrow and the paint roller at the same time and took a step toward Brittany, “no.”

Brittany gulped and tried again, “Lord Tubbington did it?”

Santana glared, “Tubs isn’t even within 5 miles of this place!”

Brittany had a panicked look on her face now, trying desperately to find a reason that would call Santana off her war path, “You were so pretty, I thought you were a painting?!”

Santana pounced even as Brittany tried to turn and run, slashing the paint roller down the side of Brittany’s jumpsuit catching the right side of the already paint-stained outfit and Brittany’s right shoulder. They both fell to the ground laughing.

“Mercy, mercy!! Okay you win!!” Brittany called between giggles as she shifted under Santana’s weight.

Santana smirked down at Brittany, “damn right I do,” she stated with a nod before blushing slightly as she realized the tangle of limbs they had fallen into. 

She pushed herself up and tucked some stray hair behind her ear, “uh I’d better go wipe this paint off my face. I’ll be right back.”

Brittany smiled and got up as well, turning back to the wall and resuming the painting they’d been distracted from. 

Santana walked back toward Rachel’s kitchen and grabbed a rag off the counter, wet it, and began working on her face, ignoring the knowing faces staring at her.

“You and Brittany have been spending a lot of time together these past three months,” Mercedes voiced what everyone else was thinking.

“You know, Wheezy, when you make a statement, it’s not supposed to come out sounding like a question,” Santana drawled as she re-wet the rag.

Mercedes and Rachel traded knowing looks. Quinn quirked an eyebrow. 

All three looked over at an absentminded Brittany, smiling to herself and dancing slightly as she continued to paint the far wall. 

“Rachel, how did you even get Santana to agree to come and provide free manual labor for you anyway?” Mercedes asked Rachel, who snorted.

“I didn’t. She just volunteered.”

“WHAT?” Mercedes asked incredulously, looking between Santana and Rachel like maybe she was dreaming. She poked Rachel in the shoulder to make sure she was actually a solid reality.

Rachel swatted Mercedes hand away and shrugged.

Quinn crossed her arms, a wicked gleam in her eye, “Santana seemed to be feeling particularly benevolent the day she met Rachel and I for lunch and Rachel asked me if I would come over to help pain the apartment.”

“Quinn,” Santana’s warning growl from across the counter was easily ignored as Quinn continued with her story.

“Rachel had asked if I thought it’d be a good idea to have a ‘painting party’ and said that you and Brittany had already agreed, when Santana suddenly piped up and said she’d love to come.” Quinn smiled.

“I believe what I actually said was, ‘I guess that means I’ll have to attend to make sure you color blind idiots don’t paint the Troll’s living room the same disgusting fuchsia color as Porcelain’s favorite pair of skinny jeans,” Santana corrected, but the mild blush in her cheeks betrayed her.

Santana turned to leave her three gossipy friends behind in the kitchen when Rachel caught Santana’s wrist as she walked by, “Santana, this is the happiest I’ve seen you in years.”

Santana glared coolly at Rachel and opened her mouth to reply, but Rachel interrupted, “I’m happy Brittany is back in your life, in whatever capacity that may mean.” 

Mercedes nodded agreement enthusiastically.

Santana looked back over at Brittany, who was still oblivious to the conversation occurring in the kitchen. She was using her paintbrush as a microphone and dancing to the music playing in the living room.

Mercedes and Rachel exchanged a look as Rachel released Santana’s wrist. She then headed off toward the bathroom with Mercedes, discussing whether a pale pink or light lavender were a better pick for the accent wall.

Quinn slid up next to Santana and bumped their shoulders together, “thinking about how cute your girlfriend looks, pretending to be Adele?”

Santana stiffened, her jaw clenched, and her gaze narrowed as she replied, “she’s not my girlfriend and you know it.”

“But you want her to be,” Quinn replied easily, her raspy voice even.

Santana crossed her arms, “it doesn’t matter what I want, Quinn.”

Quinn let out an exasperated sight, “Santana, when are you going to figure out that that’s the only thing that matters?” 

Brittany chose that moment to look over to the kitchen, catching Santana’s confused expression and Quinn rolling her eyes and walking away.

Santana immediately returned to Brittany’s side and picked up her paint roller.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t help noticing… are you and Quinn fighting?” Brittany asked while paying particular attention to the section of wall she was painting. Santana couldn’t help but notice the way the sunlight filtering through the window caught Brittany’s hair and lit it up like it might be the edges of the sun. She wanted so badly to reach out and allow herself to be burned.

“Quinn is just being Quinn. You know… a know it all and all that,” Santana reached for the paintbrush resting on the step ladder next to her to steady her hands.

Silence followed for a few long minutes before Brittany replied, “Well, you’ve both always been stubborn. I’m sure that makes picking a restaurant for date night hard.”

Santana laughed a little at the comment, “Well, I don’t know if you remember but Q’s guilty pleasure is pizza, so when we aren’t ordering in Chinese food we end up at Fiero’s down on third stree- wait hold up, hold up… date night?” Santana nearly choked on the last few words, realizing at last what Brittany had said.

Brittany fidgeted with her paintbrush, “Sorry, it’s not my business. I just realize how it might have looked a little while ago, what with you falling on top of me and the mini paint fight and stuff and thought Quinn might have been feeling insecure about it since I’m your ex and she’s your girlfriend and-“

“WOAH B HOLD WAYYYY UP, what do you mean date night?,” Santana quirked an eyebrow, “Wait! What do you mean girlfriend!?”

Brittany’s cheeks were rosy with embarrassment now. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable, “well, I just… with her in your apartment and the way you two were just arguing and everything, I thought…” Brittany trailed off before finishing the sentence.

Santana couldn’t help herself. She reached out and took Brittany’s hand, steadying the awkward flailing gestures she was making in an attempt to explain herself. Santana realized in that moment that she had no desire to make Brittany jealous- she had hurt her too much in the past to ever cause her any more drama or pain. She didn’t need to pretend she wanted anything (or anyone else).

“Brittany, I’m not dating Quinn.”

Santana was pleased (giddy even) to see an expression of relief wash over Brittany’s face, and quickly added, “Or anyone else for that matter.”

Brittany’s shoulders softened and her eyes immediately lit up at Santana’s sudden burst of unshielded honestly, “I’m happy you aren’t,” Brittany mumbled. It came out so quietly that Santana thought she may have made it up, but her heart beating against her chest (fully alive for the first time in years) made her choose to believe she hadn’t. 

Santana ducked her head in an embarrassed nod. Brittany reached out to soothe Santana’s fiery red cheeks, all too aware of how uncomfortable vulnerability made the other woman. She smoothed a thumb along Santana’s sharp cheek bone.

“Ahem,” came a pointed cough near the front door, causing both girls to immediately turn and look- Brittany with a curious face and Santana glaring daggers at the person who interrupted this intimate moment. 

“Sorry am I…interrupting?” Rachel looked quizzically between the Latina and the blonde, a faint smile on her face. Santana rolled her eyes but Rachel was saved from whatever snark was inevitably about to leave Santana’s mouth when Quinn sidled up next to her and slid a protective arm around Rachel’s waist. She stared Santana down, daring her to open her mouth.

Brittany looked from Santana to Quinn and back again, reminded of the many times the two had similar stand-offs in high school. She was confused about why this was occurring now but smiled at the familiarity before clapping her hands as if to disturb the awkward silence, “nope! No interrupting here!”

Brittany’s eyes settled on Quinn’s right hand resting comfortably and familiarly on Rachels right hip, hugging the other girl tightly to her body.

It was Brittany’s turn to quirk an eyebrow, “In fact, it would seem that Santana and I may be interrupting?” Santana had followed Brittany’s gaze and immediately giggled at Brittany’s immediate conclusion. Quinn snatched her hand back and took a large sidestep away from Rachel. Rachel and Quinn both suddenly seeming to need to be in different parts of the apartment at once.

Brittany and Santana watched as Quinn and Rachel did an awkward dance trying to move around each other; Rachel trying to move back toward Mercedes in the bathroom, and Quinn suddenly deciding that this exact moment was perfect for a real unholy trinity reunion. After a very uncoordinated 45 seconds, Quinn was finally standing in front of them.

“Soooo, Brittany…” Brittany stared expectantly as Quinn searched for something to say, “…are you all geared up for our hike next week? Got your pack and sleeping bag and everything?”

Santana looked over at Quinn, both eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline, in confusion.

“Yupp! Everything’s all set, but I have been meaning to ask if I need to bring my tent?”

Santana’s mouth opened in a confused “o” as her head snapped back to look at Brittany.

“No, no need for a tent. There’s a tiny cabin at the top that we rented out.” Quinn replied.

“A cabin?” Santana interrupted, “what cabin?”

Quinn smirked as her eyes flitted between each of Santana’s, knowing and calculated, “the cabin in Vermont that Rachel, Mercedes, Brittany, Tina, and I are hiking up to next weekend.”

“You’re having a lady glee reunion and didn’t even bother to invite me?” Santana asked in disbelief as she glared at Quinn.

“Santana, you don’t hike,” Quinn replied easily.

“I HIKE!” Santana responded indignantly as she placed one hand on her hip, morphing into the head cheerleader that no one dared question in high school.

Well…no one but Quinn, that is. “Since when?” Quinn asked dryly, acting bored as she inspected her nails.

“Since when do any of YOU hike?” Santana deflected.

Quinn looked back up from her nails and narrowed her eyes. Santana knew this meant Quinn had no come-back lined up for this question, which could only mean one thing.

“Wait, Rachel and her dads used to go on weekend hikes in high school. Rachel hikes. You don’t hike,” Santana pieced the puzzle together out loud as the muscles in Quinn’s jaw became noticeably tighter. Santana let out a cruel laugh as her eyes filled with amusement, “Quinn Fabray you are so whipped.”

“Santana, let her be,” Brittany interrupted, “I think it’s sweet, and the view from the top is supposed to be really pretty. You should come!” Brittany smiled.

Santana turned her attention back to Brittany, and couldn’t help but smile herself, “I’d love to, Britt, sounds like fun!”

Brittany’s smile grew just a little wider until it suddenly morphed into a frown. “That reminds me that I haven’t checked to make sure Lord Tubbington and Mrs Tubbington can spend the night with Kurt and Blaine. I’m gonna go call them to ask.” Brittany wandered away as she pulled out her cell phone.

“And you’re calling ME the whipped one?” Quinn muttered as Santana smiled fondly, watching Brittany walk away.

Santana chose to ignore Quinn in that moment, not particularly caring whether she was whipped or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the fluff begin!
> 
> How are we liking the story? 
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments and kudos!


	14. Chaptaaaa 14

They stood in the parking lot staring up at the giant neon sign. Both of them had their arms crossed and were glaring at the offending store in front of them. The air around them was cold and the wind was biting, even at this low altitude.

“Who the fuck thought this was a good name for a store?” Santana drawled in an irritated voice.

“Either someone who is particularly fond of their nickname or someone who has an incredibly high opinion of themselves. Either way, definitely a narcissist,” Quinn replied.

“More likely someone who is compensating for something,” Santana rolled her eyes in disgust, “alright princess, let’s go if we’re going.” Santana started walking toward the entrance.

Quinn dropped her hands to her side and threw back her head in an exasperated motion before letting out a disgusted sigh and following her best friend.

“Why did we even agree to this, we aren’t outdoorsy people?” Quinn whined as they walked into Dick’s Sporting Goods™.

“Speak for yourself, Fabray.”

“Santana, sitting poolside in the summer does not count as outdoorsy. We don’t hike.”

Santana sighed, “I know, I know. When did we lose our backbones?”

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” Quinn asked and Santana immediately walked away.

Santana led them into the camping and backpacking section of the store and was busy examining various sleeping bags while Quinn looked on.

“What kind of sleeping bag do I even want? Do you know how to choose a sleeping bag? The last one I had was Mulan themed in the 5th grade and I only used it for sleepovers.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, “It wasn’t Mulan themed. It was Beauty and The Beast and you know it.”

Santana raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t forget that I’ve been your best friend since you were 5, and _I know_ that beneath all that…” Quinn gestured sassily in Santana’s general direction, “attitude is a giant nerd who is actually kind of nice, and that’s why you liked Belle so much.”

Santana glared. “Fine, miss sleeping bag expert, which one should I buy?”

Quinn threw her arms up and raised both her eyebrows, “How should I know? My last sleeping bag was the Sleeping Beauty one that I got the same time you got yours!”

“HAH! Talk about an accurate choice in Disney princess.” Santana laughed as Quinn swatted at her.

After some continued debate, Santana decided on a red sleeping bag and Quinn bought a green one, having chosen them based entirely on color.

Next came the backpacks, which they chose via a similar system, although Santana did have the foresight to suggest they choose the lightest backpacks possible so they would be less heavy to carry up the hike.

“When are we supposed to meet up with the muppet?” Santana asked as she piled her various backpacking supplies onto the counter at the cashier.

“Quit calling her that, Santana.” Quinn snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry ,” Santana trilled back sweetly, “that was rude of me.”

Quinn knew better than to react. She merely looked back at Santana blankly, waiting for the sweetness to turn to snark.

“I should have called her by her correct name. Which is it again? Kermit? Miss Piggy? Rizzo? Ohhhh I’m sorry, I forgot that it was definitely Gonzo. So when are we meeting Gonzo, Brittany, and Tina for the road trip?” Santana finished with a proud smile, pleased with her little joke.

“Santana,” Quinn said her name in a tired, bored voice, “if you were a muppet, you would undoubtably be Fozzie Bear- your jokes are terrible.”

And with that, Quinn stalked out of the store, leaving Santana to pay for all the gear.

“Bitch,” Santana mumbled under her breath, “I’d obviously be Animal.” She swiped her credit card. Despite the fact that she usually would have just dumped all of Quinn’s stuff and only paid for her own. She needed Quinn to come on this trip so they could be miserable together and she wasn’t about to wait in the car another hour while Quinn went back in to find it all again and pay. She cursed, knowing that Quinn knew her too well.

When she got back out to the car, Quinn was already fixing her makeup in the passenger seat mirror. Santana huffed and threw all their stuff in the backseat. When she got back in the driver’s seat she threw the receipt on Quinn’s lap. “You’re paying me back.”

Quinn laughed and they drove home.

__________________________________________________________________

“I don’t get why you won’t let me drive, Mercedes.” Santana had her key ring looped around her pointer finger and was twirling it around in the air.

“Well, first of all, your car is the size of a kids meal chicken-nugget. And not even a mighty-kids meal-”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Santana interrupted.

Mercedes ignored her and continued, “Second of all, you may look super fly driving that death trap, but it’s not gonna get us through the snow without straight up sliding off the side of the road.”

Rachel had moved to stand at Mercedes side now and was nodding furiously.

Santana looked like she wanted to continue to argue, but pursed her lips instead and clicked her key fob. Her convertible beeped in response, “Fine, but I call shotgun.”

“Brittany already called shotgun,” Rachel stated matter-of-factly and turned on her heel to climb into Mercedes’ SUV.

Brittany looked over apologetically from where she was already standing by the passenger door. Santana raised an eyebrow at her in a question. Brittany just winked in return and climbed into the passenger seat. Santana shook her head and chuckled at herself, wondering why she ever even entertained the idea that Britt might give up the leg room in the passenger seat.

“What’s so funny, Fozzie?” Quinn had managed to sidle up to Santana without alerting the other girl to her presence.

Santana’s face immediately darkened and she swiveled to fix Quinn with an evil eye. “Fuck right off barbie, don’t call me that.”

Quinn smirked, “Tina is going to meet us there since she lives in Vermont and Rachel already packed all our stuff into the car. Let’s go.”

Quinn climbed into the car on the passenger side, so Santana went around the car to the driver side and opened the door. To her displeasure, she found Rachel already sitting in the window seat.

Rachel was startled when the door opened and looked back across the car to see Quinn watching the scene from the other window seat. She turned back to Santana.

“Oh no, Santana, you’re not going to bully me out of the window seat.” Rachel began when Santana cut her off.

“Listen Rachel, you can sit there and babble whatever excuse you want to keep me from kicking your pancake ass out of my seat if you want to, or we can fast-forward to the moment where you give up and I gets what I wants. Besides, Barbara, you and I both know that you’d be more than happy to cuddle up with my girl, Quinn, over there. So why don’t you just save us both the trouble and get to scootching?” She smirked, satisfied with her argument.

Everyone else in the car was watching them, but Rachel didn’t move. Santana’s smile faltered and her mouth dropped into a confused ‘o’. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

“I’m not moving, Santana, I get car sick. Frankly, if you want the whole car to smell of day old, partially digested, pesto pasta and regret, who am I to deny the fact that you’re certainly more physically fit than me and entirely capable of ‘kicking my pancake ass’,” Rachel made air-quotes around the last part of the sentence and then flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But, something tells me you’d have a lot less pleasant of a drive after the inevitable vehicular induced nausea runs its course.” Santana wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. “And I, for one, would rather not vomit in front of ‘your girl, Quinn.’” Rachel finished.

Air quotes again. Santana really fucking hated air quotes.

She looked across at an amused Quinn, who blatantly reached over and locked her own door- indicating to Santana that she certainly wouldn’t be moving either.

“Santana get your tiny, diva self in this car so we can get a move on.” Mercedes said sternly from the driver’s seat.

Brittany was scrolling through her phone, but Santana could see just enough of her profile to tell that Brittany found it funny to see Santana put in her place by Rachel for the first time in a long time. Santana huffed.

“Fine, move so I can get in.” She growled, and Rachel dismounted from the SUV to allow Santana to sit in the middle seat. The actress climbed back in and smiled sweetly.

“Okay, we’re all set! Everyone buckle up!”

Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana all responded with a synchronized, “ughhhhh” to Rachel’s obnoxious mothering. Quinn rolled her eyes but buckled her seatbelt. This was going to be a long ride.

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They’d been driving for a few hours and the car ride had been pretty quiet. Rachel hadn’t stopped staring out the window and Quinn had some drool trailing down her chin as she napped. Santana and Mercedes had been chit-chatting here and there but had been silent for the last fifteen minutes. Brittany had put in her headphones and was listening to music. Every now and then, a dance-able song would evidently play and she’d dance a little in her seat.

And Santana? Well Santana was content to sit and watch Brittany’s tiny dance moves. Forever in awe of the girl who had stolen her heart so many years ago. Amazed that they were here, all these years later, even with all the drama and history between them, in a car on the way to a cabin for a weekend hike with their friends.

She was lost in her thoughts about their relationship, in all its various forms over the years, when Brittany started softly humming to the song that was playing in her earbuds.

Santana hadn’t noticed but she was quietly singing along as Brittany hummed. She couldn’t help it, this song always made her think of Brittany. As it should, considering Santana had helped to write the song and there was an entire verse inspired by none other than the lanky dancer.

She remembered when she’d been meeting with Niall to write the song. He’d had the chorus finished but was struggling with writing the middle verse. Santana had already read what he’d written, and the song resonated deeply with her even unfinished. She couldn’t turn the project down.

_If the whole world was watching, I'd still dance with you_   
_Drive highways and byways to be there with you_   
_Over and over the only truth_   
_Everything comes back to you_

Santana sang her own lyrics quietly, staring at the girl who she’d wanted so badly to say these things to, but chose instead to say them over radio waves and someone else’s voice instead of picking up her phone and calling.

_You still make me nervous when you walk in the room_   
_Them butterflies, they come alive when I'm next to you_   
_Over and over the only truth_   
_Everything comes back to you_

_And I know that it's wrong_   
_That I can't move on_   
_But there's something about you_

Mercedes cleared her throat loudly, but if she heard Santana’s quiet singing, she didn’t say anything. Santana frowned and forced herself to look away from Brittany.

As she looked away, she caught a flash of blue in the rearview mirror and allowed her own eyes to dart back to the reflection. Brown eyes locked with blue and she knew, yet again, that Brittany had managed to discover yet another one of Santana’s songs despite the measures she’d taken to hide them.

She gave Brittany a soft, almost apologetic smile. She looked away, though, unable to endure the meaningful gaze she was receiving and a little embarrassed at just how much of her soul Brittany had access to via her music.

Of course, that had been the intention when Santana had decided to write songs using an alias. Something about the idea that Brittany might hear her music over the radio and take comfort in the lyrics made Santana feel less awful about sending her away to LA. At the same time, though, it was hard enough to write the music. She hadn’t thought she could handle the idea that Brittany would know exactly how she was feeling without Santana having a clue how Brittany was doing. So, she settled on anonymity.

Santana frowned deeply as the thoughts ran through her brain. How could Brittany have figured it out? Sure, she could believe that Brittany had just known that Santana had written Midnight Regrets…that one was 100% her style of music and had imagery woven in it that had come straight out of their relationship. But this song? It could have been any angsty, lonely, break-up song… written by anyone.

She spent the rest of the car ride trying to puzzle it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le Song in this chapter is, of course, This Town by Niall Horan... which I, of course, do not own lmao
> 
> Next chapter is the hike/cabin. I'll try to get it out ASAP.


	15. In Loving Memory

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I've been absent from this story for a few months. Such is 2020.

I'd revisited glee in the past year, as I was at a low point in my life and glee (and in particular, Naya's portrayal of Santana) has always brought me comfort. I published the first 14 chapters of this story in less than 2 weeks because I was so consumed in the story, because Santana and Brittany's relationship made me feel like I had a light waiting for me at the end of this depressive spiral, and because it gave me something other than my own life to think about.

Like so many other women my age, Santana was the first representation of myself that I saw on TV. She was like a fictional therapist that I spent time with when I felt like no one in my life would understand what I was going through. The way the Naya and Heather portrayed Brittany and Santana (albeit they deserved more screentime, a better wedding, and the show-runners definitely made mistakes in the show) was significantly more mature than other relationships in the show. 

I identified with Santana, because while I wasnt considered a bitch, I could certainly be brutally honest. I was deeply closeted throughout high school. I also fell in love with my best friend and later went on to have a complicated relationship with her. 

But more than a fictional cheerleader with a sharp wit and cutting tongue, I had always admired Naya. She wasnt an unproblematic celebrity. She went through her "crazy" years, and even wholeheartedly admitted to them. She wasn't an "easy" person. She didnt agree for the sake of agreeing, she didnt make herself smaller for the comfort of those around her. These are qualities I really admired about her. She was unapologetically who she was and she demanded the respect she deserved. It's something I strive for myself.

Naya was straight, or at least, that's how we knew her to identify for the majority of her life. While other actresses in her position may have been uncomfortable portraying a young lesbian, she faced this without fear. I've never once heard her say a single thing about concern for negative impact in her life portraying a queer character. This is incredible to me considering that she was one of the first in a role of this nature. Rather than allowing Santana to be a token queer character in a show, she created a character that could not be hidden behind a rainbow shirt slapped on her body and a few well placed lesbian jokes. She portrayed Santana so well that the show had no other choice than to continue this storyline and give her a leading role. Naya was a professional actor from childhood but her rise to "Stardom" via glee took off quickly. Rather than letting that go to her head, she humbly worked hard to create a character that was complex and rich, that was flawed. A character that would do justice to the representation that rested entirely on Naya's ability to portray the struggle of being a queer teenager in an unforgiving world. Naya's strong allyship and passion for her fans is what carried the storyline of Brittany and Santana. Don't mistake that- there were unscripted moments that were only possible thanks to Naya and Heather's confidence to push limits. 

Naya took her relationship with her impressionable, struggling, and yes, even closeted, fans incredibly seriously. She was involved with the Trevor Project and GLAAD, which only lends itself to the truth that this was about more than just work for her. About more than simply up-keeping appearances and appealing to a fan base. She cared about us, as we cared about her. 

The thing about Naya's willingness to do Santana the utmost justice is that it allowed myself, and many like me, to feel loved. See, in a time where I was afraid to admit to myself where I stood, let alone my friends and my family, there was Naya. I felt seen for the first time in my life because someone on TV was portraying who I knew I was. That same someone was also vocal about how she saw her fans. She listened to them and took their stories and infused them into Santana's storyline. Naya saw us, saw me, and she let us know that we deserved to be seen.

See, the thing is, when you are spend all your time obsessively considering what your future may be like and trying to piece together whether you're actually queer or just confused, it rattles you to your core when a TV character randomly says exactly what you've been thinking. It sparks a light of confidence in you to know that the thoughts in your brain are not thoughts that only you are struggling with. It means this is a shared experience, and in a way, it validates you. Hearing the way Santana spoke about Brittany was a light bulb moment for me. I know that I have Naya to thank for that, because if it had been another actress, they may not have pushed for Santana's storyline the way Naya did. It was Naya's fearlessness, fierceness, and kindness that enabled this representation.

It truly burdens my heart to know that Naya was probably scared when she died. Something she herself has said she hates, "being scared of _anything at all _". It breaks my heart to know that someone so full of life, such a force, so filled with bubbling laughter, an infectious smile, and unshakable faith in god was taken so early from this earth. She was brimming with talent and I truly don't think this world had seen enough of it. I find solace in the fact that, since Josey's birth, the one thing she seemed to ever talk about was how much she loved that little boy. It is spelled out in her book, in interviews, all over her social media. I am thankful he will grow up and be able to see tangible evidence of her overwhelming love for him. He will never have to wonder whether she loved him, what she would have said to him. It is heart wrenching to know that she mustered the last of her strength to save him, but I know that if she had to go, she damn sure wasn't going to let him go with her.__

__She was flawed, but she was honest. She was unapologetic but also understanding and open to growth. But more than anything else, she was a person whose warmth radiated through a TV screen, who touched the lives of hundreds of kids whose lives may very well have been saved by her smile, and a woman whose life positively influenced the world around her._ _

.

__We will miss you, sweet, fierce Naya. Thank you for what you've given me and others like me. Keep it movin up there in heaven and rest easy._ _

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